LUNAT I  < 
AT  LARGE 


P 


STOKER  CLOU5TON 


HBBi^ffl 


DCSB 


* 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 


The  Lunatic. 


— Frontispiece. 


Lunatic  at  Largi. 


The 

Lunatic  at  Large 

A   Novel 

BY 

J.  STOKER   CLOUSTON 

Illustrated  by 

LATIMER  J.  WILSON 


NEW  YORK. 
F.  M.  BUCKLES   &   COMPANY 


Copyright  1905 

by 
F.  M.  BUCKLES  &  Co. 


The  Lunatic  at  Large. 


The  Lunatic  at  Large 


INTRODUCTORY 

INTO  the  history  of  Mr.  Francis  Beveridge,  as 
supplied  by  the  obliging  candor  of  the  Baron  von 
Blitzenberg  and  the  notes  of  Dr.  Escott,  Dr. 
Twiddel  and  his  friend  Robert  Welsh  make  a 
kind  of  explanatory  entry.  They  most  effectually 
set  the  ball  a-rolling,  and  so  the  story  starts  in  a 
small  room  looking  out  on  a  very  uninteresting 
London  street. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  on  a  November  af- 
ternoon, that  season  of  fogs  and  rains  and  mud, 
when  townspeople  long  for  fresh  air  and  hill- 
sides, and  country-folk  think  wistfully  of  the 
warmth  and  lights  of  a  city,  when  nobody  is 
satisfied,  and  everybody  has  a  cold.  Outside  the 
window  of  the  room  there  were  a  few  feet  of 
earth  adorned  with  a  low  bush  or  two,  a  line  of 
railings,  a  stone-paved  street,  and  on  the  other 
side  a  long  row  of  uniform  yellow  brick  houses. 
7 


8  THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE 

The  apartment  itself  was  a  modest  chamber, 
containing  a  minimum  of  rented  furniture  and  a 
flickering  gas-stove.  By  a  small  easeful  of  med- 
ical treatises  and  a  conspicuous  stethoscope,  the 
least  experienced  could  see  that  it  was  labeled 
consulting-room. 

Dr.  Twiddel  was  enjoying  one  of  those  mo- 
ments of  repose  that  occur  even  in  the  youngest 
practitioner's  existence.  For  the  purposes  of  this 
narrative  he  may  briefly  be  described  as  an  ami- 
able-looking young  man,  with  a  little  bit  of  fair 
moustache  and  still  less  chin,  no  practice  to  speak 
of,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  unpaid  bills. 
A  man  of  such  features  and  in  such  circumstances 
invites  temptation.  At  the  present  moment, 
though  his  waistcoat  was  unbuttoned  and  his 
feet  rested  on  the  mantelpiece,  his  mind  seemed 
not  quite  at  ease.  He  looked  back  upon  a  num- 
ber of  fortunate  events  that  had  not  occurred, 
and  forward  to  various  unpleasant  things  that 
might  occur,  and  then  he  took  a  letter  from  his 
pocket  and  read  it  abstractedly. 

"I  can't  afford  to  refuse,"  he  reflected,  lugu- 
briously; "  and  yet,  hang  it!  I  must  say  I  don't 
fancy  the  job." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE  9 

When  metal  is  molten  it  can  be  poured  into 
any  vessel;  and  at  that  moment  a  certain  deep 
receptacle  stood  on  the  very  door-step. 

The  doctor  heard  the  bell,  sat  up  briskly, 
stuffed  the  letter  back  into  his  pocket,  and  but- 
toned his  waistcoat. 

"A  patient  at  last!"  and  instantly  there  arose 
a  vision  of  a  simple  operation,  a  fabulous  fee,  and 
twelve  sickly  millionaires  an  hour  ever  after. 
The  door  opened,  and  a  loud  voice  hailed  him 
familiarly. 

"  Only  Welsh,"  he  sighed,  and  the  vision  went 
the  way  of  all  the  others. 

The  gentleman  who  swaggered  in  and  clapped 
the  doctor  on  the  back,  who  next  threw  himself 
into  the  easiest  chair  and  his  hat  and  coat  over 
the  table,  was  in  fact  Mr.  Robert  Welsh.  From 
the  moment  he  entered  he  pervaded  the  room; 
the  stethoscope  seemed  to  grow  less  conspicu- 
ous, Dr.  Twiddel's  chin  more  diminutive,  the 
apartment  itself  a  mere  background  to  this  guest. 
Why  ?  It  would  be  hard  to  say  precisely.  He 
was  a  black-moustached,  full-faced  man,  with 
an  air  of  the  most  consummate  assurance,  and  a 
person  by  some  deemed  handsome.  Yet  some- 


10          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

how  or  other  he  inevitably  recalled  the  uncles  of 
history.  Perhaps  this  assurance  alone  gave  him 
his  atmosphere.  You  could  have  felt  his  egotism 
in  the  dark. 

He  talked  in  a  loud  voice  and  with  a  great  air 
of  mastery  over  all  the  contingencies  of  a  life 
about  town.  You  felt  that  here  sat  one  who  had 
seen  the  world  and  gave  things  their  proper  pro- 
portions, who  had  learned  how  meretricious  was 
orthodoxy,  and  which  bars  could  really  be  recom- 
mended. He  chaffed,  patronized,  and  cheered 
the  doctor.  Patients  had  been  scarce,  had  they  ? 
Well,  after  all,  there  were  many  consolations. 
Did  Twiddel  say  he  was  hard  up  ?  Welsh  him- 
self in  an  even  more  evil  case.  He  narrated 
various  unfortunate  transactions  connected  with 
the  turf  and  other  pursuits,  with  regret,  no 
doubt,  and  yet  with  a  fine  rakish  defiance  of  des- 
tiny. Twiddel's  face  cleared,  and  he  began  to 
show  something  of  the  same  gallant  spirit.  He 
brought  out  a  tall  bottle  with  a  Celtic  superscrip- 
tion; Welsh  half  filled  his  glass,  poured  in  some 
water  from  a  dusty  decanter,  and  proposed  the 
toast  of  "  Luck  to  the  two  most  deserving  sinners 
in  London!" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          11 

The  doctor  was  fired,  he  drew  the  same  letter 
from  his  pocket,  and  cried,  "By  Jove,  Welsh, 
I'd  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  of  a  lucky  offer 
that  came  this  morning." 

This  was  not  strictly  true,  for  as  a  matter  of 
fact  the  doctor  had  only  hesitated  to  tell  of  this 
offer  lest  he  should  be  shamed  to  a  decision. 
But  Welsh  was  infectious. 

"Congratulations,  old  man!  "said  his  friend. 
"What's  it  all  about?" 

"Here's  a  letter  from  an  old  friend  of  my 
people's — Dr.  Watson,  by  name.  He  has  a  very 
good  country  practice,  and  he  offers  me  this 
job." 

He  handed  the  letter  to  Welsh,  and  then 
added,  with  a  flutter  of  caution,  "I  haven't 
made  up  my  mind  yet.  There  are  drawbacks, 
as  you'll  see." 

Welsh  opened  the  letter  and  read: — 

"DEAR  TWIDDEL:  I  am  happy  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  at  last  able  to  put  something  in  your  way. 
A  gentleman  in  this  neighborhood,  one  of  my 
most  esteemed  patients,  has  lately  suffered  from 
a  severe  mental  and  physical  shock,  followed  by 
brain  fever,  and  is  still,  I  regret  to  say,  in  an 
extremely  unstable  mental  condition.  I  have 


12          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

strongly  recommended  quiet  and  change  of 
scene,  and  at  my  suggestion  he  is  to  be  sent 
abroad  under  the  care  of  a  medical  attendant.  I 
have  now  much  pleasure  in  offering  you  the 
post,  if  you  would  care  to  accept  it.  You  will 
find  your  patient,  Mr.  Mandell-Essington,  an  ex- 
tremely agreeable  young  man  when  in  possession 
of  his  proper  faculties.  He  has  large  means  and 
no  near  relatives;  he  comes  of  one  of  the  best 
families  in  the  county;  and  though  he  has,  I 
surmise,  sown  his  wild  oats  pretty  freely,  he  was 
considered  of  unusual  promise  previous  to  this 
unfortunate  illness.  He  is  of  an  amiable  and 
pleasant  disposition,  though  at  present,  we  fear, 
inclined  to  suicidal  tendencies.  I  have  no  par- 
ticular reason  to  think  he  is  at  all  homicidal;  still, 
you  will  see  that  he  naturally  requires  most  care- 
ful watching.  It  is  possible  that  you  may  hesi- 
tate to  leave  your  practice  (which  I  trust  pros- 
pers); but  as  the  responsibility  is  considerable, 
the  fee  will  be  proportionately  generous — ^500, 
and  all  expenses  paid." 

("Five  hundred  quid!"  exclaimed  Welsh.) 
"I  would  suggest  a  trip  on  the  Continent. 
The  duration  and  the  places  to  be  visited  will  be 
entirely  at  your  discretion.  It  is  of  course  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  you  will  seek  quiet  localities. 
Trusting  to  hear  from  you  at  your  very  earliest 
convenience,  believe  me, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"  TIMOTHY  WATSON." 

Welsh  looked  at  his  friend  with  the  respect 
that  prosperity  naturally  excites.     He  smiled  on 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         13 

him  as  an  equal,  and  cried,  heartily,  "  Congratu- 
lations again!  When  do  you  start  ?" 

Twiddel  fidgeted  uncomfortably,  "I — er — 
well,  you  see— ah — I  haven't  quite  made  up  my 
mind  yet." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Hang  it,  Welsh— er— the  fact  is  I  don't  al- 
together like  the  job." 

Scruples  of  any  kind  always  surprised  Welsh. 

"  Can't  afford  to  leave  the  practice  ?  "  he  asked 
with  a  laugh. 

"That's — ah — partly  the  reason,"  replied 
Twiddel,  uncomfortably. 

"Rot,  old  man!  There's  a  girl  in  the  case. 
Out  with  it!" 

"No,  it  isn't  that.  You  see  it's  the  very  devil 
of  a  responsibility." 

At  this  confession  of  weakness  he  looked 
guiltily  at  his  heroic  friend.  From  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  he  wished  he  had  screwed  up  his  cour- 
age in  private.  Welsh  had  so  little  imagination. 

"By  Gad,"  exclaimed  Welsh,  "I'd  manage  a 
nunnery  for  ^500! " 

"I  dare  say  you  would,  but  a  suicidal,  and 
possibly  homicidal,  lunatic  isn't  a  nunnery." 


14         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Welsh  looked  at  his  friend  with  diminished 
respect. 

"Then  you  are  going  to  chuck  up  ^500  and  a 
free  trip  on  the  Continent  ?  "  he  said. 

"Dr.  Watson  himself  admits  the  responsibil- 
ity." 

"With  a  —  what  is  it? — agreeable  young 
man  ?" 

"  Only  when  in  possession  of  his  proper 
faculties,"  said  the  doctor,  dismally. 

"  And  an  amiable  disposition  ?  " 

"With  suicidal  tendencies,  hang  it!  " 

"I  should  have  thought,"  said  Welsh,  with  a 
laugh,  "that  they  would  only  matter  to  him- 
self." 

"But  he  is  homicidal  too  — or  at  least  it's 
doubtful.  I  want  to  know  a  little  more  about 
that,  thank  you!  " 

"  What  is  the  man's  name  ?  " 

"  Mandell-Essington." 

"  Sounds  aristocratic.  He  might  come  in  use- 
ful afterwards,  when  he's  cured." 

Welsh  spoke  with  an  air  of  reflection,  which 
might  have  been  entirely  disinterested. 

"He'd   probably  commit  suicide  first,"  said 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE          15 

Twiddel,  "and  of  course  I'd  get  all  the 
blame." 

"Or  homicide,"  replied  Welsh,  "when  he 
would." 

"  No,  he  wouldn't — that's  the  worst  of  it;  I'd 
be  blamed  for  having  my  own  throat  cut." 

"Twiddel,"  said  his  friend,  deliberately,  "it 
seems  to  me  you're  a  fool." 

"  I'm  at  least  alive,"  cried  Twiddel,  warming 
with  sympathy  for  himself,  "  which  I  probably 
wouldn't  be  for  long  in  Mr.  Essington's  company." 

"  I  don't  blame  your  nerves,  dear  boy,"  said 
Welsh,  with  a  smile  that  showed  all  his  teeth, 
"  only  your  head.  Here  are  ^"500  going  a-beg- 
ging. There  must  be  some  way "  He 

paused,  deep  in  reflection.  "  How  would  it 
do,"  he  remarked  in  a  minute,  "if  /  were  to 
go  in  your  place  ?  " 

Twiddel  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Couldn't  be  managed  ?  " 

"Couldn't  possibly,  I'm  afraid." 

"  No,"  said  Welsh.     "  I  foresee  difficulties." 

He  fished  a  pipe  out  of  his  pocket,  filled  and 
lit  it,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  gazing  at  the 
ceiling. 


16          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE 

"Twiddel,  my  boy,"  he  said  at  length,  "will 
you  give  me  a  percentage  of  the  fee  if  I  think 
of  a  safe  dodge  for  getting  the  money  and  pre- 
serving your  throat?" 

Twiddel  laughed. 

"Rather!"  he  said. 

"I  am  perfectly  serious,"  replied  Welsh, 
keenly.  "I'm  certain  the  thing  is  quite  pos- 
sible." 

He  half  closed  his  eyes  and  ruminated  in 
silence.  The  doctor  watched  him — fascinated, 
afraid.  Somehow  or  other  he  felt  that  he  was 
already  a  kind  of  Guy  Fawkes.  There  was 
something  so  unlawful  in  Welsh's  expression. 

They  sat  there  without  speaking  for  about  ten 
minutes,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  Welsh  sprang 
up  with  a  shout  of  laughter,  slapping  first  his 
own  leg  and  then  the  doctor's  back. 

"By  Gad,  I've  got  it!"  he  cried.  "I  have 
it!" 

And  he  had;  hence  this  tale. 


PART  I 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  a  certain  fertile  and  well-wooded  county  of 
England  there  stands  a  high  stone  wall.  On  a 
sunny  day  the  eye  of  the  traveler  passing  through 
this  province  is  gratified  by  the  sparkle  of 
myriads  of  broken  bottles  arranged  closely  and 
continuously  along  its  coping-stone.  Above 
these  shining  facets  the  boughs  of  tall  trees  swing 
in  the  wind  and  throw  their  shadows  across  the 
highway.  The  wall  at  last  leaves  the  road  and 
follows  the  park  round  its  entire  extent.  Its 
height  never  varies ;  the  broken  bottles  glitter  per- 
petually; and  only  through  two  entrances,  and 
that  when  the  gates  are  open,  can  one  gain  a  sin- 
gle glimpse  inside:  for  the  gates  are  solid,  with 
no  chinks  for  the  curious. 

The  country  all  round  is  undulating,  and  here 
and  there  from  the  crest  of  an  eminence  you  can 
see  a  great  space  of  well-timbered  park  land 
'7 


18          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

within  this  wall;  and  in  winter,  when  the  leaves 
are  off  the  trees,  you  may  spy  an  imposing  red- 
brick mansion  in  the  midst. 

Any  native  will  inform  you,  with  a  mixture  of 
infectious  awe  and  becoming  pride,  that  this  is 
no  less  than  the  far-famed  private  asylum  of 
Clankwood. 

This  ideal  institution  bore  the  enviable  reputa- 
tion of  containing  the  best-bred  lunatics  in  Eng- 
land. It  was  credibly  reported  that  however  well 
marked  their  symptoms  and  however  well 
developed  their  delusions,  none  but  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  most  unblemished  descent  were 
permitted  to  enjoy  its  seclusion.  The  dances 
there  were  universally  considered  the  most  agree- 
able functions  in  the  county.  The  conversation 
of  many  of  the  inmates  was  of  the  widest  range 
and  the  most  refreshing  originality,  and  the  de- 
meanor of  all,  even  when  most  free  from  the 
conventional  trammels  of  outside  society,  bore 
evidence  of  an  expensive,  and  in  some  cases  of  a 
Christian,  upbringing.  This  is  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  at  when  beneath  one  roof  were  as- 
sembled the  heirs-presumptive  to  three  duke- 
doms, two  suicidal  marquises,  an  odd  archbishop 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          19 

or  so,  and  the  flower  of  the  baronetage  and 
clergy.  As  this  list  only  includes  a  few  of  the 
celebrities  able  or  willing  to  be  introduced  to  dis- 
tinguished visitors,  and  makes  no  mention  of  the 
uncorroborated  dignities  (such  as  the  classical 
divinities  and  Old  Testament  duplicates),  the 
anxiety  shown  by  some  people  to  certify  their  re- 
lations can  easily  be  understood. 

Dr.  Congleton,  the  proprietor  and  physician  of 
Clankwood,  was  a  gentleman  singularly  well 
fitted  to  act  as  host  on  the  occasion  of  asylum  re- 
unions. No  one  could  exceed  him  in  the  respect 
he  showed  to  a  coroneted  head,  even  when 
cracked;  and  a  bishop  under  his  charge  was 
always  secured,  as  far  as  possible,  from  the  least 
whisper  of  heretical  conversation.  He  possessed 
besides  a  pleasant  rubicund  countenance  and  an 
immaculate  wardrobe.  He  was  further  fortunate 
in  having  in  his  assistants,  Dr.  Escott  and  Dr. 
Sherlaw,  two  young  gentlemen  whose  medical 
knowledge  was  almost  equal  to  the  affability  of 
their  manners  and  the  excellence  of  their  family 
connections. 

One  November  night  these  two  were  sitting 
over  a  comfortable  fire  in  Sherlaw's  room. 


20          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Twelve  o'clock  struck,  Escott  finished  the  re- 
mains of  something  in  a  tumbler,  rose,  and 
yawned  sleepily. 

"  Time  to  turn  in,  young  man,"  said  he. 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  replied  Sherlaw,  a  very 
pleasant  and  boyish  young  gentleman.  "Hullo! 
What's  that  ?  A  cab  ?  " 

They  both  listened,  and  some  way  off  they 
could  just  pick  out  a  sound  like  wheels  upon 
gravel. 

"It's  very  late  for  any  one  to  be  coming  in," 
said  Escott. 

The  sound  grew  clearer  and  more  unmistakably 
like  a  cab  rattling  quickly  up  the  drive. 

"  It  is  a  cab,"  said  Sherlaw. 

They  heard  it  draw  up  before  the  front  door, 
and  then  there  came  a  pause. 

"Who  the  deuce  can  it  be?"  muttered 
Escott. 

In  a  few  minutes  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  a  servant  entered. 

"A  new  case,  sir.  Wants  to  see  Dr.  Congle- 
ton  particular." 

"  A  man  or  a  woman  ?" 

"Man,  sir." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          21 

"All  right,"  growled  Sherlaw.  "I'll  come, 
confound  him." 

"Bad  luck,  old  man,"  laughed  Escott.  "I'll 
wait  here  in  case  by  any  chance  you  want  me." 

He  fell  into  his  chair  again,  lit  a  cigarette,  and 
sleepily  turned  over  the  pages  of  a  book.  Dr. 
Sherlaw  was  away  for  a  little  time,  and  when  he 
returned  his  cheerful  face  wore  a  somewhat 
mystified  expression. 

"Well?"  asked  Escott. 

"Rather  a  rum  case,"  said  his  colleague, 
thoughtfully. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?" 

"  Don't  know." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  Don't  know  that  either." 

Escott  opened  his  eyes. 

"What  happened,  then?" 

"  Well,"  said  Sherlaw,  drawing  his  chair  up  to 
the  fire  again,  "  I'll  tell  you  just  what  did  happen, 
and  you  can  make  what  you  can  out  of  it.  Of 
course,  I  suppose  it's  all  right,  really,  but — well, 
the  proceedings  were  a  little  unusual,  don't  you 
know. 

"I  went  down  to  the  door,  and  there  I  found 


22         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

a  four-wheeler  with  a  man  standing  beside  it. 
The  door  of  the  cab  was  shut,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  two  more  men  inside.  This  chap  who'd 
got  out — a  youngish  man — hailed  me  at  once  as 
though  he'd  bought  the  whole  place. 

'"You  Dr.  Congleton?' 

"  '  Damn  your  impertinence  ! '  I  said  to  myself, 
'  ringing  people  up  at  this  hour,  and  talking  like 
a  bally  drill-sergeant.' 

"  I  told  him  politely  I  wasn't  old  Congers,  but 
that  I'd  make  a  good  enough  substitute  for  the 
likes  of  him. 

'"I  tell  you  what  it  is,'  said  the  Johnnie,  ' I've 
brought  a  patient  for  Dr.  Congleton,  a  cousin  of 
mine,  and  I've  got  a  doctor  here,  too.  I  want  to 
see  Dr.  Congleton.' 

"'He's  probably  in  bed,'  I  said,  'but  I'll  do 
just  as  well.  I  suppose  he's  certified,  and  all 
that.' 

"'Oh,  it's  all  right,'  said  the  man,  rather  as 
though  he  expected  me  to  say  that  it  wasn't. 
He  looked  a  little  doubtful  what  to  do,  and  then  I 
heard  some  one  inside  the  cab  call  him.  He  stuck 
his  head  in  the  window  and  they  confabbed  for 
a  minute,  and  then  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  with 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          23 

the  most  magnificent  air  you  ever  saw,  like  a 
chap  buying  a  set  of  diamond  studs,  '  My  friend 
here  is  a  great  personal  friend  of  Dr.  Congleton, 
and  it's  a  damned I  mean  it's  an  uncom- 
monly delicate  matter.  We  must  see  him.' 

"  '  Well,  if  you  insist,  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  him,' 
I  said;  'but  you'd  better  come  in  and  wait.' 

"  So  the  Johnnie  opened  the  door  of  the  cab,  and 
there  was  a  great  hauling  and  pushing,  my  friend 
pulling  an  arm  from  the  outside,  and  the  doctor 
shoving  from  within,  and  at  last  they  fetched  out 
their  patient.  He  was  a  tall  man,  in  a  very 
smart-looking,  long,  light  topcoat,  and  a  cap 
with  a  large  peak  shoved  over  his  eyes,  and  he 
seemed  very  unsteady  on  his  pins. 

"'Drunk,  by  George!'  I  said  to  myself  at 
first. 

"The  doctor — another  young-looking  man — 
hopped  out  after  him,  and  they  each  took  an 
arm,  lugged  their  patient  into  the  waiting-room, 
and  popped  him  into  an  armchair.  There  he  col- 
lapsed, and  sat  with  his  head  hanging  down  as 
limp  as  a  sucked  orange. 

"  I  asked  them  if  anything  was  the  matter  with 
him. 


24          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

'"Only  tired,— just  a  little  sleepy,'  said  the 
cousin. 

"And  do  you  know,  Escott,  what  I'd  stake  my 
best  boots  was  the  matter  with  him  ?" 

"What?" 

"The  man  was  drugged  !  " 

Escott  looked  at  the  fire  thoughtfully. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it's  quite  possible;  he 
might  have  been  too  violent  to  manage." 

"  Why  couldn't  they  have  said  so,  then  ?" 

"  H'm.  Not  knowing,  can't  say.  What  hap- 
pened next?" 

"Next  thing  was,  I  asked  the  doctor  what 
name  I  should  give.  He  answered  in  a  kind  of 
nervous  way,  'No  name;  you  needn't  give  any 
name.  I  know  Dr.  Congleton  personally.  Ask 
him  to  come,  please.'  So  off  I  tooled,  and  found 
old  Congers  just  thinking  of  turning  in. 

"  '  My  clients  are  sometimes  unnecessarily  dis- 
creet,' he  remarked  in  his  pompous  way  when  I 
told  him  about  the  arrival,  and  of  course  he 
added  his  usual  platitude  about  our  reputation 
for  discretion. 

"I  went  back  with  him  to  the  waiting-room, 
and  just  stood  at  the  door  long  enough  to  see 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          25 

him  hail  the  doctor  chap  very  cordially  and  be  in- 
troduced to  the  patient's  cousin,  and  then  I  came 
away.  Rather  rum,  isn't  it?" 

"You've  certainly  made  the  best  of  the  yarn," 
said  Escott  with  a  laugh. 

'"By  George,  if  you'd  been  there  you'd  have 
thought  it  funny  too." 

"Well,  good-night,  I'm  off.  We'll  probably 
hear  to-morrow  what  it's  all  about." 

But  in  the  morning  there  was  little  more  to  be 
learned  about  the  newcomer's  history  and  ante- 
cedents. Dr.  Congleton  spoke  of  the  matter  to 
the  two  young  men,  with  the  pompous  cough 
that  signified  extreme  discretion. 

"Brought  by  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  he  said. 
"A  curious  story,  Escott,  but  quite  intelligible. 
There  seem  to  be  the  best  reasons  for  an- 
swering no  questions  about  him;  you  under- 
stand?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  the  two  assistants,  with 
the  more  assurance  as  they  had  no  information  to 
give. 

"I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  mind  you — perfectly 
satisfied,"  added  their  chief. 

"By  the  way,  sir,"  Sherlaw  ventured  to  re- 


26          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

mark,  "hadn't  they  given  him  something  in  the 
way  of  a  sleeping-draught  ?  " 

"Eh?  Indeed?  I  hardly  think  so,  Sherlaw,  I 
hardly  think  so.  Case  of  reaction  entirely.  Good- 
morning." 

"Congleton  seems  satisfied,"  remarked  Escott. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  the  junior,  pro- 
foundly. "Old  Congers  is  a  very  good  chap, 
and  all  that,  but  he's  not  what  I  should  call  extra 
sharp.  /  should  feel  uncommon  suspicious." 

"H'm,"  replied  Escott.  "As  you  say,  our 
worthy  chief  is  not  extra  sharp.  But  that's  not 
our  business,  after  all. 


CHAPTER  I! 

"  BY  the  way,"  said  Escott,  a  couple  of  days 
later,  "  how  is  your  mysterious  man  getting  on  ? 
I  haven't  seen  him  myself  yet. 

Sherlaw  laughed. 

"  He's  turning  out  a  regular  sportsman,  by 
George!  For  the  first  day  he  was  more  or  less  in 
the  same  state  in  which  he  arrived.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  wake  up  and  ask  questions.  '  What  the 
devil  is  this  place  ?'  he  said  to  me  in  the  evening. 
It  may  sound  profane,  but  he  was  very  polite,  I 
assure  you.  I  told  him,  and  he  sort  of  raised  his 
eyebrows,  smiled,  and  thanked  me  like  a  Prime 
Minister  acknowledging  an  obligation.  Since 
then  he  has  steadily  developed  sporting,  not  to 
say  frisky,  tastes.  He  went  out  this  morning, 
and  in  five  minutes  had  his  arm  round  one  of  the 
prettiest  nurse's  waist.  And  she  didn't  seem  to 
mind  much  either,  by  George!  " 

"  He'll  want  a  bit  of  looking  after,  I  take  it." 

"Seems  to  me  he  is  uncommonly  capable  of 
27 


28          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

taking  care  of  himself.  The  rest  of  the  estab- 
lishment will  want  looking  after,  though." 

From  this  time  forth  the  mysterious  gentleman 
began  to  regularly  take  the  air  and  to  be  re- 
marked, and  having  once  remarked  him,  people 
looked  again. 

Mr.  Francis  Beveridge,  for  such  it  appeared 
was  his  name,  was  distinguished  even  for  Clank- 
wood.  Though  his  antecedents  were  involved 
in  mystery,  so  much  confidence  was  placed  in 
Dr.  Congleton's  discrimination  that  the  unknown 
stranger  was  at  once  received  on  the  most 
friendly  terms  by  every  one;  and,  to  tell  the 
truth,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  repulse  him  for 
long.  His  manner  was  perfect,  his  conversation 
witty  to  the  extremest  verge  of  propriety,  and  his 
clothes,  fashionable  in  cut  and  of  unquestionable 
fit,  bore  on  such  of  the  buttons  as  were  made  of 
metal  the  hall  mark  of  a  leading  London  firm. 
He  wore  the  longest  and  most  silky  moustaches 
ever  seen,  and  beneath  them  a  short  well-tended 
beard  completed  his  resemblance — so  the  ladies 
declared — to  King  Charles  of  unhappy  memory. 
The  melancholic  Mr.  Jones  (quondam  author  of 
"Sunflowers — A  Lyrical  Medley")  declared,  in- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          29 

deed,  that  for  Mr.  Beveridge  shaving  was  pro- 
hibited, and  darkly  whispered  "suicidal,"  but  his 
opinion  was  held  of  little  account. 

It  was  upon  a  morning  about  a  week  after  his 
arrival  that  Dr.  Escott,  alone  in  the  billiard-room, 
saw  him  enter.  Escott  had  by  this  time  made 
his  acquaintance,  and,  like  almost  everybody 
else,  had  already  succumbed  to  the  fascination  of 
his  address. 

"Good-morning,  doctor,"  he  said;  "I  wish 
you  to  do  me  a  trifling  favor,  a  mere  bending  of 
your  eyes." 

Escott  laughed. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted.     What  is  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Beveridge  unbuttoned  his  waistcoat  and 
displayed  his  shirt-front. 

"I  only  want  you  to  be  good  enough  to  read 
the  inscription  written  here." 

The  doctor  bent  down. 

"  '  Francis  Beveridge,'  "  he  said.  "  That's  all  I 
see." 

"And  that's  all  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge. 
"Now  what  can  you  read  here?  I  am  not 
troubling  you?" 

He  held  out  his  handkerchief  as  he  spoke. 


30          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Not  a  bit,"  laughed  the  doctor,  "but  I  only 
see  'Francis  Beveridge  '  here  too,  I'm  afraid." 

"Everything  has  got  it,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge, 
shaking  his  head,  it  would  be  hard  to  say 
whether  humorously  or  sadly.  "  'Francis  Beve- 
ridge '  on  everything.  It  follows,  I  suppose,  that 
lam  Francis  Beveridge?" 

"What  else? "asked  Escott,  who  was  much 
amused. 

"That's  just  it.  What  else?"  said  the  other. 
He  smiled  a  peculiarly  charming  smile,  thanked 
the  doctor  with  exaggerated  gratitude,  and 
strolled  out  again. 

"He  is  a  rum  chap,"  reflected  Escott. 

And  indeed  in  the  outside  world  he  might 
safely  have  been  termed  rather  rum,  but  here  in 
this  backwater,  so  full  of  the  oddest  flotsam,  his 
waywardness  was  rather  less  than  the  average. 
He  had,  for  instance,  a  diverting  habit  of  modify- 
ing the  time,  and  even  the  tune,  of  the  hymns  on 
Sunday,  and  he  confessed  to  having  kissed  all  the 
nurses  and  housemaids  except  three.  But  both 
Escott  and  Sherlaw  declared  they  had  never  met 
a  more  congenial  spirit.  Mr.  Beveridge's  game 
of  billiards  was  quite  remarkable  even  for  Clank- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          31 

wood,  where  the  enforced  leisure  of  many  of  the 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  had  made  them  highly 
proficient  on  the  spot;  he  showed  every  promise, 
on  his  rare  opportunities,  of  being  an  unusually 
entertaining  small  hour,  whisky-and-soda  racon- 
teur ;  in  fact,  he  was  evidently  a  man  whose 
previous  career,  whatever  it  might  have  been 
(and  his  own  statements  merely  served  to  in- 
crease the  mystery  round  this  point),  had  led  him 
through  many  humorous  by-paths,  and  left  him 
with  few  restrictive  prejudices. 

November  became  December,  and  to  all  ap- 
pearances he  had  settled  down  in  his  new  resi- 
dence with  complete  resignation,  when  that  un- 
knowable factor  that  upsets  so  many  calculations 
came  upon  the  scene, — the  factor,  I  mean,  that 
wears  a  petticoat. 

Mr.  Beveridge  strolled  into  Escott's  room  one 
morning  to  find  the  doctor  inspecting  a  mixed 
assortment  of  white  kid  gloves. 

"  Do  these  mean  past  or  future  conquests  ?"  he 
asked  with  his  smile. 

"Both,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "I'm  trying  to 
pick  out  a  clean  pair  for  the  dance  to-night." 

"  You  go  a-dancing,  then  ?  " 


32          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Don't  you  know  it's  our  own  monthly  ball 
here?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge,  passing  his 
hand  quickly  across  his  brow.  "1  must  have 
heard,  but  things  pass  so  quickly  through  my 
head  nowadays." 

He  laughed  a  little  conventional  laugh,  and 
gazed  at  the  gloves. 

"You  are  coming,  of  course?"  said  Escott. 

"  If  you  can  lend  me  a  pair  of  these.  Can  you 
spare  one?" 

"  Help  yourself,"  replied  the  doctor. 

Mr.  Beveridge  selected  a  pair  with  the  care 
of  a  man  who  is  particular  in  such  matters,  put 
them  in  his  pocket,  thanked  the  doctor,  and 
went  out. 

"  Hope  he  doesn't  play  the  fool,"  thought 
Escott. 

Invitations  to  the  balls  at  Clankwood  were  nat- 
urally in  great  demand  throughout  the  county,  for 
nowhere  were  noblemen  so  numerous  and  divini- 
ties so  tangible.  Carriages  and  pairs  rolled  up  one 
after  another,  the  mansion  glittered  with  lights, 
the  strains  of  the  band  could  be  heard  loud  and 
stirring  or  low  and  faintly  all  through  the  house. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          33 

"Who  is  that  man  dancing  opposite  my 
daughter  ?  "  asked  the  Countess  of  Grillyer. 

"  A  Mr.  Beveridge,"  replied  Dr.  Congleton. 

Mr.  Beveridge,  in  fact,  the  mark  of  all  eyes, 
was  dancing  in  a  set  of  lancers.  The  couple  op- 
posite to  him  consisted  of  a  stout  elderly  gentle- 
man who,  doubtless  for  the  best  reasons,  styled 
himself  the  Emperor  of  the  two  Americas,  and  a 
charming  little  pink  and  flaxen  partner— the  Lady 
Alicia  a  Fyre,  as  everybody  who  was  anybody 
could  have  told  you.  The  handsome  stranger 
moved,  as  might  be  expected,  with  his  accus- 
tomed grace  and  air  of  distinction,  and,  probably 
to  convince  his  admirers  that  there  was  nothing 
meretricious  in  his  performance,  he  carried  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  the  whole  time.  This  cer- 
tainly caused  a  little  inconvenience  to  his  partner, 
but  to  be  characteristic  in  Clankwood  one  had  to 
step  very  far  out  of  the  beaten  track. 

For  two  figures  the  Emperor  snorted  disap- 
proval, but  at  the  end  of  the  third,  when  Mr. 
Beveridge  had  been  skipping  round  the  outskirts 
of  the  set,  his  hands  still  thrust  out  of  sight, 
somewhat  to  the  derangement  of  the  customary 
procedure,  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 


34          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Hey,  young  man!"  he  asked  in  his  most 
stentorian  voice,  as  the  music  ceased,  "are  you 
afraid  of  having  your  pockets  picked  ?  " 

"Alas!"  replied  Mr.  Beveridge,  "it  would 
take  two  men  to  do  that." 

"Huh  !"  snorted  the  Emperor,  "you  are  so 
d d  strong  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  answered  his  vts-d-vis  with  his  po- 
lite smile,  "that  it  would  take  one  man  to  put 
something  in  and  another  to  take  it  out." 

This  remark  not  only  turned  the  laugh  entirely 
on  Mr.  Beveridge's  side,  but  it  introduced  the  up- 
setting factor. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre,  though  of  the  outer 
every-day  world  herself,  had,  in  common  with 
most  families  of  any  pretensions  to  ancient  dig- 
nity, a  creditable  sprinkling  of  uncles  and  cousins 
domiciled  in  Clankwood,  and  so  she  frequently 
attended  these  dances. 

To-night  her  eye  had  been  caught  by  a  tall, 
graceful  figure  executing  a  pas  seul  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  with  its  hands  in  its  pockets.  The 
face  of  this  gentleman  was  so  composed  and 
handsome,  and  he  seemed  so  oblivious  to  the 
presence  of  everybody  else,  that  her  interest  was 
immediately  excited.  During  the  set  of  lancers 
in  which  he  was  her  -vis-a-vis  she  watched  him 
furtively  with  a  growing  feeling  of  admiration. 
She  had  never  heard  him  say  a  word,  and  it  was 
with  a  sensation  of  the  liveliest  interest  that  she 
listened  to  his  brief  passage  with  her  partner. 
At  his  final  retort  her  tender  heart  was  overcome 
with  pity.  He  was  poor,  then,  or  at  least  he  was 
allowed  the  use  of  no  money.  And  all  of  him 
35 


36          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

that  was  outside  his  pockets  seemed  so  sane  and 
so  gentlemanly;  it  seemed  a  pity  to  let  him  lack 
a  little  sympathy. 

The  Lady  Alicia  might  be  described  as  a  be- 
coming frock  stuffed  with  sentiment.  Through 
a  pair  of  large  blue  eyes  she  drank  in  romance, 
and  with  the  reddest  and  most  undecided  of  lips 
she  felt  a  vague  desire  to  kiss  something.  At  the 
end  of  the  dance  she  managed  by  a  series  of 
little  manoeuvres  to  find  herself  standing  close  to 
his  elbow.  She  sighed  twice,  but  he  still  seemed 
absorbed  in  his  thoughts.  Then  with  a  heroic  ef- 
fort she  summoned  up  her  courage,  and  said  in  a 
low  and  rather  shaky  voice,  "You — you — you 
are  unha — appy." 

Mr.  Beveridge  turned  and  looked  down  on  her 
with  great  interest.  Her  eyes  met  his  for  a  mo- 
ment and  straightway  sought  the  floor.  Thus 
she  saw  nothing  of  a  smile  that  came  and  went 
like  the  shadow  of  a  puff  of  smoke.  He  took 
his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  folded  his  arms,  and, 
with  an  air  of  the  deepest  dejection,  sighed 
heavily.  She  took  courage  and  looked  up  again, 
and  then,  as  he  only  gazed  into  space  in  the  most 
romantically  melancholy  fashion  and  made  no 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          37 

answer,  she  asked  again  very  timidly,   "  Wh — 
what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Without  saying  a  word  Mr.  Beveridge  bent 
courteously  and  offered  her  his  right  arm.  She 
took  it  with  the  most  delicious  trepidation, 
glancing  round  hurriedly  to  see  whether  the 
Countess  noticed  her.  Another  dance  was  just 
beginning,  and  in  the  general  movement  her 
mysterious  acquaintance  led  her  without  observa- 
tion to  a  seat  in  the  window  of  a  corridor. 
There  he  pressed  her  hand  gently,  stroked  his 
long  moustaches  for  a  minute,  and  then  said,  with 
an  air  of  reflection,  "There  are  three  ways  of 
making  a  woman  like  one.  I  am  slightly  out  of 
practice.  Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  suggest 
a  method  of  procedure  ?  " 

Such  a  beginning  was  so  wholly  unexpected 
that  Lady  Alicia  could  only  give  a  little  gasp  of 
consternation.  Her  companion,  after  pausing  an 
instant  for  a  reply,  went  on  in  the  same  tone,  "  I 
am  aware  that  I  have  begun  well.  I  attracted 
your  attention,  I  elicited  your  sympathy,  and  I 
pressed  your  hand  ;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't 
remember  what  I  generally  do  next." 

Poor  Lady  Alicia,  who  had  come  with  a  buck- 


38          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

etful  of  sympathy  ready  to  be  gulped  down  by 
this  unfortunate  gentleman,  was  only  able  to 
stammer,  "I — I  really  don't  know,  Mr. " 

"Hamilton,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge,  unblushingly. 
"  At  least  that  name  belongs  to  me  as  much  as 
anything  can  be  said  to  in  a  world  where  my 
creditors  claim  my  money  and  Dr.  Congleton  my 
person." 

"You  are  confined  and  poor,  you  mean?" 
asked  Lady  Alicia,  beginning  to  see  her  way 
again. 

"Poor  and  confined,  to  put  them  in  their 
proper  order,  for  if  I  had  the  wherewithal  to  pur- 
chase a  balloon  I  should  certainly  cease  to  be  con- 
fined." 

His  admirer  found  it  hard  to  reply  adequately 
to  this,  and  Mr.  Beveridge  continued,  "To  re- 
turn to  the  delicate  subject  from  which  we 
strayed,  what  would  you  like  me  to  do, — put  my 
arm  round  your  waist,  relate  my  troubles,  or  turn 
my  back  on  you  ?" 

"Are — are  those  the  three  ways  you  spoke  of 
—to  make  women  like  you,  I  mean  ? "  Lady 
Alicia  ventured  to  ask,  though  she  was  beginning 
to  wish  the  sofa  was  larger. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          39 

"They  are  examples  of  the  three  classical 
methods:  cuddling,  humbugging,  and  piquing. 
Which  do  you  prefer  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  about  your — your  troubles,"  she 
answered,  gaining  courage  a  little. 

"  You  belong  to  the  sex  which  makes  no  men- 
tion of  figs  and  spades,"  he  rejoined;  "  but  I  un- 
derstand you  to  mean  that  you  prefer  humbug- 
ging." 

He  drew  a  long  face,  sighed  twice,  and  look- 
ing tenderly  into  Lady  Alicia's  blue  eyes,  began 
in  a  gentle,  reminiscent  voice,  "My  boyhood 
was  troubled  and  unhappy:  no  kind  words,  no 
caresses.  I  was  beaten  by  a  cruel  stepfather,  ig- 
nored and  insulted  for  my  physical  deformities 
by  a  heartless  stepmother." 

He  stopped  to  sigh  again,  and  Lady  Alicia, 
with  a  boldness  that  surprised  herself,  and  a  per- 
spicacity that  would  have  surprised  her  friends, 
asked,  "  How  could  they — I  mean,  were  they 
both  step?" 

"  Several  steps,"  he  replied;  "  in  fact,  quite  a 
long  journey." 

With  this  explanation  Lady  Alicia  was  forced 
to  remain  satisfied;  but  as  he  had  paused  a  second 


40          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

time,  and  seemed  to  be  immersed  in  the  study  of 
his  shoes,  she  inquired  again,  "  You  spoke  of 
physical  infirmities ;  do  you  mean ?  " 

"Deformities,"  he  corrected;  "  up  to  the  age  of 
fourteen  years  I  could  only  walk  sideways,  and 
my  hair  parted  in  the  middle." 

He  spoke  so  seriously  that  these  unusual 
maladies  seemed  to  her  the  most  touching  mis- 
fortunes she  had  ever  heard  of.  She  murmured 
gently,  "Yes?" 

"As  the  years  advanced,"  Mr.  Beveridge  con- 
tinued, "and  I  became  more  nearly  thesame  weight 
as  my  stepfather,  my  life  grew  happier.  It  was 
decided  to  send  me  to  college,  so  I  was  provided 
with  an  insufficient  check,  a  complete  set  of 
plated  forks,  and  three  bath  towels,  and  de- 
spatched to  the  University  of  Oxford.  At  least  I 
think  that  was  the  name  of  the  corporation 
which  took  my  money  and  endeavored  to  restrict 
my  habits,  though,  to  confess  the  truth,  my 
memory  is  not  what  it  used  to  be.  There  I 
learned  wisdom  by  the  practice  of  folly — the  most 
amusing  and  effective  method.  My  tutor  used 
to  tell  me  I  had  some  originality.  I  apologized 
for  its  presence  in  such  a  respectable  institution, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE         41 

and  undertook  to  pass  an  examination  instead.  I 
believe  I  succeeded:  I  certainly  remember  giving 
a  dinner  to  celebrate  something.  Thereupon  at 
my  own  expense  the  University  inflicted  a  degree 
upon  me,  but  I  was  shortly  afterwards  compen- 
sated by  the  death  of  my  uncle  and  my  accession 
to  his  estates.  Having  enjoyed  a  university  edu- 
cation, and  accordingly  possessing  a  corrected 
and  regulated  sentiment,  I  was  naturally  incon- 
solable at  the  decease  of  this  venerable  relative, 
who  for  so  long  had  shown  a  kindly  interest  in 
the  poor  orphan  lad." 

He  stopped  to  sigh  again,  and  Lady  Alicia 
asked  with  great  interest,  "  But  your  step-par- 
ents, you  always  had  them,  hadn't  you  ?  " 

"Never!  "  he  replied,  sadly. 

"Never?"  she  exclaimed  in  some  bewilder- 
ment. 

"Certainly  not  often,"  he  answered,  "and 
oftener  than  not,  never.  If  you  had  told  me  be- 
forehand you  wished  to  hear  my  history,  I 
should  have  pruned  my  family  tree  into  a  more 
presentable  shape.  But  if  you  will  kindly  tell 
me  as  I  go  along  which  of  my  relatives  you  dis- 
approve of,  and  who  you  would  like  to  be  in- 


42          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

troduced  to,  I  shall  arrange  the  plot  to  suit 
you." 

"  I  only  wish  to  hear  the  true  story,  Mr.  Ham- 
ilton." 

"  Fortescue,"  he  corrected.  "  I  certainly  pre- 
fer to  be  called  by  one  name  at  a  time,  but  never 
by  the  same  twice  running." 

He  smiled  so  agreeably  as  he  said  this  that 
Lady  Alicia,  though  puzzled  and  a  little  hurt, 
could  not  refrain  from  smiling  back. 

"  Let  me  hear  the  rest,"  she  said. 

"It  is  no  truer  than  the  first  part,  but  quite 
as  entertaining.  So,  if  you  like,  1  shall  endeavor 
to  recall  the  series  of  painful  episodes  that 
brought  me  to  Clankwood,"  he  answered,  very 
seriously. 

Lady  Alicia  settled  herself  comfortably  into  one 
corner  of  the  sofa  and  prepared  to  feel  affected. 
But  at  that  moment  the  portly  form  of  Dr.  Con- 
gleton  appeared  from  the  direction  of  the  ball- 
room with  a  still  more  portly  dowager  on  his 
arm. 

"My  mother!"  exclaimed  Lady  Alicia,  rising 
quickly  to  her  feet. 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  Mr.  Beveridge,  who  still  kept 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          43 

his  seat.  "She  certainly  looks  handsome 
enough." 

This  speech  made  Lady  Alicia  blush  very  be- 
comingly, and  the  Countess  looked  at  her 
sharply. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Alicia  ?  " 

"The  room  was  rather  warm,  mamma, 
and " 

"In  short,  madam,"  interrupted  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge,  rising  and  bowing,  "your  charming 
daughter  wished  to  study  a  lunatic  at  close  quar- 
ters. I  am  mad,  and  I  obligingly  raved.  Thus 

"  He  ran  one  hand  through  his  hair  so  as  to 

make  it  fall  over  his  eyes,  blew  out  his  cheeks, 
and  uttering  a  yell,  sprang  high  into  the  air,  and 
descended  in  a  sitting  posture  on  the  floor. 

"That,  madam,  is  a  very  common  symptom," 
he  explained,  with  a  smile,  smoothing  down  his 
hair  again,  "  as  our  friend  Dr.  Congleton  will  tell 
you." 

Both  the  doctor  and  the  Countess  were  too  as- 
tonished to  make  any  reply,  so  he  turned  again 
to  Lady  Alicia,  and  offering  his  arm,  said,  "  Let 
me  lead  you  back  to  our  fellow-fools." 

"  Is  he  safe  ?  "  whispered  the  Countess. 


44          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  I — I  believe  so,"  replied  Dr.  Congleton  in 
some  confusion;  "  but  1  shall  have  him  watched 
more  carefully." 

As  they  entered  the  room  Mr.  Beveridge  whis- 
pered, "Will  you  meet  a  poor  lunatic  again  ?" 
And  the  Lady  Alicia  pressed  his  arm. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  the  morning  after  the  dance  Dr.  Congleton 
summoned  Dr.  Escott  to  his  room. 

"  Escott,"  he  began,  "  we  must  keep  a  little 
sharper  eye  on  Mr.  Beveridge." 

"  Indeed,  sir  ?  "  said  Escott;  "  he  seems  to  me 
harmless  enough." 

"  Nevertheless,  he  must  be  watched.  Lady 
Grillyer  was  considerably  alarmed  by  his  conduct 
last  night,  and  a  client  who  has  confided  so  many 
of  her  relatives  to  my  care  must  be  treated  with 
the  greatest  regard.  I  receive  pheasants  at 
Christmas  from  no  fewer  than  fourteen  families 
of  title,  and  my  reputation  for  discretion  is  too 
valuable  to  be  risked.  When  Mr.  Beveridge  is 
not  under  your  own  eyes  you  must  see  that 
Moggridge  always  keeps  him  in  sight." 

Accordingly  Moggridge,  a  burly  and  seasoned 
attendant  on  refractory  patients,  was  told  off  to 
keep  an  unobtrusive  eye  on  that  accomplished 
gentleman.  His  duties  appeared  light  enough, 
for,  as  I  have  said,  Mr.  Beveridge's  eccentricities 
45 


46          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

had  hitherto  been  merely  of  the  most  playful 
nature. 

After  luncheon  on  this  same  day  he  gave  Es- 
cott  twelve  breaks  and  a  beating  at  billiards,  and 
then  having  borrowed  and  approved  of  one  of 
his  cigars,  he  strolled  into  the  park.  If  he  in- 
tended to  escape  observation,  he  certainly  showed 
the  most  skilful  strategy,  for  he  dodged  deviously 
through  the  largest  trees,  and  at  last,  after  a 
roundabout  ramble,  struck  a  sheltered  walk  that 
ran  underneath  the  high,  glass-decked  outer  wall. 
It  was  a  sunny  winter  afternoon.  The  boughs 
were  stripped,  and  the  leaves  lay  littered  on  the 
walk  or  flickered  and  stirred  through  the  grass. 
In  this  spot  the  high  trees  stood  so  close  and  the 
bare  branches  were  so  thick  that  there  was  still 
an  air  of  quiet  and  seclusion  where  he  paced  and 
smoked.  Every  now  and  then  he  stopped  and 
listened  and  looked  at  his  watch,  and  as  he 
walked  backwards  and  forwards  an  amused 
smile  would  come  and  go. 

All  at  once  he  heard  something  move  on  the 
far  side  of  the  wall:  he  paused  to  make  sure,  and 
then  he  whistled.  The  sounds  outside  ceased, 
and  in  a  moment  something  fell  softly  behind 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE          4? 

him.  He  turned  quickly  and  snatched  up  a  little 
buttonhole  of  flowers  with  a  still  smaller  note 
tied  to  the  stems. 

"An  uncommonly  happy  idea,"  he  said  to 
himself,  looking  at  the  missive  with  the  air  of 
one  versed  in  these  matters.  Then  he  leisurely 
proceeded  to  unfold  and  read  the  note. 

"To  my  friend,"  he  read,  "if  I  may  call 
you  a  friend  since  I  have  known  you  only  such 
a  short  time — may  I  ?  This  is  just  to  express 
my  sympathy,  and  although  I  cannot  express  it 
well,  still  perhaps  you  will  forgive  my  feeble 
effort!!" 

At  this  point,  just  as  he  was  regarding  the 
double  mark  of  exclamation  with  reminiscent  en- 
tertainment, a  plaintive  voice  from  the  other  side 
of  the  wall  cried  in  a  stage  whisper,  "  Have  you 
got  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Beveridge  composed  his  face,  and  heaving 
his  shoulders  to  his  ears  in  the  effort,  gave  vent 
to  a  prodigious  sigh. 

"  A  million  thanks,  my  fairest  and  kindest  of 
friends,"  he  answered  in  the  same  tone.  "  I  read 
it  now:  I  drink  it  in,  I " 

He  kissed  the  back  of  his  hand  loudly  two  or 


48         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

three  times,  sighed  again,  and  continued  his 
reading. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  it  ran,  "  but  I  am 
afraid  I  cannot,  as  the  world  is  so  censorious,  is 
it  not  ?  So  you  must  accept  a  friend's  sympathy 
if  it  does  not  seem  to  you  too  bold  and  forward 
of  her!!!  Perhaps  we  may  meet  again,  as  I 
sometimes  go  to  Clankwood.  Au  revoir. — 
Your  sympathetic  well-wisher.  A.  A  F." 

He  folded  it  up  and  put  it  in  his  waistcoat- 
pocket,  then  he  exclaimed  in  an  audible  aside,  his 
voice  shaking  with  the  most  affecting  thrill, 
"  Perhaps  we  may  meet  again!  Only  perhaps! 
O  Alicia!"  And  then  dropping  again  into  a 
stage  whisper,  he  asked,  "Are  you  still  there, 
Lady  Alicia  ?  " 

A  timorous  voice  replied,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Fortescue. 
But  I  really  must  go  now!  " 

"Now?    So  soon?" 

"  I  have  stayed  too  long  already." 

"  Tis  better  to  have  stayed  too  long  than 
never  to  wear  stays  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge. 

There  was  no  response  for  a  moment.  Then 
a  low  voice,  a  little  hurt  and  a  good  deal  puz- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE          49 

zled,  asked  with  evident  hesitation,  "What — 
what  did  you  say,  Mr.  Fortescue  ?'? 

"I  said  that  Lady  Alicia's  stay  cannot  be  too 
long,"  he  answered,  softly. 

"  But— but  what  good  can  I  be  ?  " 

"  The  good  you  cannot  help  being." 

There  was  another  moment's  pause,  then  the 
voice  whispered,  "  I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"My  Alicia  understands  me  not!"  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge  soliloquized  in  another  audible  aside. 
Aloud,  or  rather  in  a  little  lower  tone,  he  an- 
swered, "I  am  friendless,  poor,  and  imprisoned. 
What  is  the  good  in  your  staying?  Ah,  Lady 
Alicia!  But  why  should  I  detain  you  ?  Go,  fair 
friend!  Go  and  forget  poor  Francis  Beveridge!  " 

There  came  a  soft,  surprised  answer,  "Francis 
Beveridge  ?  " 

"Alas!  you  have  guessed  my  secret.  Yes, 
that  is  the  name  of  the  unhappiest  of  mortals." 

As  he  spoke  these  melancholy  words  he  threw 
away  the  stump  of  his  cigar,  took  another  from 
his  case,  and  bit  off  the  end. 

The  voice  replied,  "I  shall  remember  it — 
among  my  friends." 

Mr.  Beveridge  struck  a  match. 


50          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  H'sh!  Whatever  is  that  ?  "  cried  the  voice  in 
alarm. 

"A  heart  breaking,"  he  replied,  lighting  his 
cigar. 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,"  said  the  voice.  "  It — it 
distresses  me."  There  was  a  break  in  the  voice. 

"And,  alas  !  between  distress  and  consolation 
there  are  fifteen  perpendicular  feet  of  stone  and 
mortar  and  the  relics  of  twelve  hundred  bottles  of 
Bass,"  he  replied. 

"  Perhaps," — the  voice  hesitated — "  perhaps  we 
may  see  each  other  some  day." 

"  Say  to-morrow  at  four  o'clock,"  he  suggested, 
pertinently.  "  If  you  could  manage  to  be  pass- 
ing up  the  drive  at  that  hour." 

There  was  another  pause. 

"  Perhaps "  the  voice  began. 

At  that  moment  he  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  a 
branch  behind  him,  and  turning  instantly  he 
spied  the  uncompromising  countenance  of  Mogg- 
ridge  peering  round  a  tree  about  twenty  paces 
distant.  Lack  of  presence  of  mind  and  quick 
decision  were  not  amongst  Mr.  Beveridge's  fail- 
ings. He  struck  a  theatrical  attitude  at  once,  and 
began  in  a  loud  voice,  gazing  up  at  the  tops  of 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          51 

the  trees,  "  He  comes!  A  stranger  comes!  Yes, 
my  fair  friend,  we  may  meet  again.  Au  revoir, 
but  only  for  a  while!  Ah,  that  a  breaking  heart 
should  be  lit  for  a  moment  and  then  the  lamp  be 
put  out! " 

Meanwhile  Moggridge  was  walking  towards 
him. 

"  Ha,  Moggridge!"  he  cried.     "Good-day." 

"Time  you  was  goin'  in,  sir,"  said  Mogg- 
ridge, stolidly;  and  to  himself  he  muttered, 
"  He's  crackeder  than  I  thought,  a-shoutin'  and 
a-ravin'  to  hisself.  Just  as  well  I  kept  a  heye 
on  'im." 

Like  most  clever  people,  Mr.  Beveridge  gen- 
erally followed  the  line  of  least  resistance.  He 
slipped  his  arm  through  his  attendant's,  shouted 
a  farewell  apparently  to  some  imaginary  divinity 
overhead,  and  turned  towards  the  house. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Moggridge. 

"  Funny  thing  your  turning  up.  Out  for  a 
walk,  I  suppose?" 

"For  a  stroll,  sir— that's  to  say "  he 

stopped. 


52          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  That  on  these  chilly  afternoons  the  dear  good 
doctor  is  afraid  of  my  health  ? 

"  That's  kind  o'  it,  sir." 

"But  of  course  I'm  not  supposed  to  notice 
anything,  eh  ?  " 

Moggridge  looked  a  trifle  uncomfortable  and 
was  discreetly  silent.  Mr.  Beveridge  smiled  at 
his  own  perspicacity,  and  then  began  in  the 
most  friendly  tone,  "Well,  I  feel  flattered  that  so 
stout  a  man  has  been  told  off  to  take  care  of  me. 
What  an  arm  you've  got,  man." 

"Pretty  fair,  sir,"  said  Moggridge,  com- 
placently. 

"  And  I  am  thankful,  too,"  continued  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge, "that  you're  a  man  of  some  sense.  There 
are  a  lot  of  fools  in  the  world,  Moggridge,  and  I'm 
somewhat  of  an  epicure  in  the  matter  of  heads." 

"Mine  'as  been  considered  pretty  sharp," 
Moggridge  admitted,  with  a  gratified  relaxation 
of  his  wooden  countenance. 

"  Have  a  cigar?"  his  patient  asked,  taking  out 
his  case. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do." 

"  You  will  find  it  a  capital  smoke.  I  don't 
throw  them  away  on  every  one." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE          53 

Moggridge,  completely  thawed,  lit  his  cigar 
and  slackened  his  pace,  for  such  frank  appre- 
ciation of  his  merits  was  rare  in  a  critical  world. 

"You  can  perhaps  believe,  Moggridge,"  said 
Mr.  Beveridge,  reflectively,  "that  one  doesn't 
often  have  the  chance  of  talking  confidentially  to 
a  man  of  sense  in  Clankwood." 

"No,  sir,  I  should  himagine  not." 

"And  so  one  has  sometimes  to  talk  to 
oneself." 

This  was  said  so  sadly  that  Moggridge  began 
to  feel  uncomfortably  affected. 

"Ah,  Moggridge,  one  cannot  always  keep 
silence,  even  when  one  least  wants  to  be  over- 
heard. Have  you  ever  been  in  love,  Mogg- 
ridge ?" 

The  burly  keeper  changed  countenance  a  little 
at  this  embarrassingly  direct  question,  and  an- 
swered diffidently,  "Well,  sir,  to  be  sure  men  is 
men  and  woming  will  be  woming." 

"The  deuce,  they  will!"  replied  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge, cordially;  "and  it's  rather  hard  to  forget 
'em,  eh?" 

"Hindeed  it  is,  sir." 

"  I  remembered  this  afternoon,  but  I  should 


54         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

like  you  as  a  good  chap  to  forget.  You  won't 
mention  my  moment  of  weakness,  Moggridge?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Moggridge,  stoutly.  "I  sup- 
pose I  bought  to  report  what  I  sees,  but  I  won't 
this  time." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge,  pressing 
his  arm.  "  I  had,  you  know,  a  touch  of  the  sun 
in  India,  and  I  sometimes  talk  when  I  shouldn't. 
Though,  after  all,  that  isn't  a  very  uncommon 
complaint." 

And  so  it  happened  that  no  rumor  prejudicial 
either  to  his  sanity  or  to  the  progress  of  his 
friendship  with  the  Lady  Alicia  reached  the  ears 
of  the  authorities. 


CHAPTER  V 

TOWARDS  four  o'clock  on  the  following  after- 
noon Mr.  Beveridge  and  Moggridge  were  walk- 
ing leisurely  down  the  long  drive  leading 
from  the  mansion  of  Clankwood  to  the  gate 
that  opened  on  the  humdrum  outer  world. 
Finding  that  an  inelastic  matter  of  yards  was  all 
the  tether  he  could  hope  for,  Mr.  Beveridge 
thought  it  best  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns,  and 
make  a  companion  of  this  necessity.  So  he  kept 
his  attendant  by  his  side,  and  regaled  him  for 
some  time  with  a  series  of  improbable  reminis- 
cences and  tolerable  cigars,  till  at  last,  round  a 
bend  of  the  avenue,  a  lady  on  horseback  came 
into  view.  As  she  drew  a  little  nearer  he  stopped 
with  an  air  of  great  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"  I  believe,  Moggridge,  that  must  be  Lady 
Alicia  a  Fyre!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  It  looks  huncommon  like  her,  sir,"  replied 
Moggridge. 

"  I  must  really  speak  to  her.  She  was" — and 
Mr.  Beveridge  assumed  his  inimitable  air  of 
55 


56          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

manly  sentiment — "she  was  one  of  my  poor 
mother's  dearest  friends.  Do  you  mind,  Mogg- 
ridge,  falling  behind  a  little  ?  In  fact,  if  you 
could  step  behind  a  tree  and  wait  here  for  me,  it 
would  be  pleasanter  for  us  both.  We  used  to 
meet  under  happier  circumstances,  and,  don't  you 
know,  it  might  distress  her  to  be  reminded  of  my 
misfortunes." 

Such  a  reasonable  request,  beseechingly  put  by 
so  fine  a  gentleman,  could  scarcely  be  refused. 
Moggridge  retired  behind  the  trees  that  lined  the 
avenue,  and  Mr.  Beveridge  advanced  alone  to 
meet  the  Lady  Alicia.  She  blushed  very  be- 
comingly as  he  raised  his  hat. 

"  I  hardly  expected  to  see  you  to-day,  Mr. 
Beveridge,"  she  began. 

"  I,  on  the  other  hand,  have  been  thinking  of 
nothing  else,"  he  replied. 

She  blushed  still  deeper,  but  responded  a  little 
reprovingly,  "  It's  very  polite  of  you  to  say  so, 
but  — 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  he.  "I  have  a  dozen 
equally  well-turned  sentences  at  my  disposal, 
and,  they  tell  me,  a  most  deluding  way  of  saying 
them." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          57 

Suddenly  out  of  her  depth  again,  poor  Lady 
Alicia  could  only  strike  out  at  random. 

"Who  tell  you?"  she  managed  to  say. 

"  First,  so  far  as  my  poor  memory  goes,  my 
mother's  lady's-maid  informed  me  of  the  fact; 
then  I  think  my  sister's  governess,"  he  replied, 
ticking  off  his  informants  on  his  fingers  with  a 
half-abstracted  air.  "After  that  came  a  number 
of  more  or  less  reliable  individuals,  and  lastly  the 
Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre." 

"  Me  ?    I'm  sure  I  never  said " 

"  None  of  them  ever  said,"  he  interrupted. 

"But  what  have  I  done,  then?"  she  asked, 
tightening  her  reins,  and  making  her  horse  fidget 
a  foot  or  two  farther  away. 

"You  have  begun  to  be  a  most  adorable  friend 
to  a  most  unfortunate  man." 

Still  Lady  Alicia  looked  at  him  a  little  du- 
biously, and  only  said,  "  I — I  hope  I'm  not  too 
friendly." 

"  There  are  no  degrees  in  friendly,"  he  replied. 
"There  are  only  aloofly,  friendly,  and  more  than 
friendly." 

"  I — I  think  I  ought  to  be  going  on,  Mr.  Bev- 
eridge." 


58          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

That  experienced  diplomatist  perceived  that  it 
was  necessary  to  further  embellish  himself. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  soldiers  ? "  he  asked  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?"  she  said  in  considerable 
bewilderment. 

"Does  a  red  coat,  a  medal,  and  a  brass  band 
appeal  to  you  ?  Are  you  apt  to  be  interested  in 
her  Majesty's  army  ?" 

"I  generally  like  soldiers,"  she  admitted,  still 
much  surprised  at  the  turn  the  conversation  had 
taken. 

"  Then  I  was  a  soldier." 

"  But— really  ?" 

"I  held  a  commission  in  one  of  the  crackest 
cavalry  regiments,"  he  began  dramatically,  and 
yet  with  a  great  air  of  sincerity.  "  I  was  con- 
sidered one  of  the  most  promising  officers  in  the 
mess.  It  nearly  broke  my  heart  to  leave  the 
service." 

He  turned  away  his  head.  Lady  Alicia  was 
visibly  affected. 

"I  am  so  sorry!"  she  murmured. 

Still  keeping  his  face  turned  away,  he  held  out 
his  hand  and  she  pressed  it  gently. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          59 

"Sorrow  cannot  give  me  my  freedom,"  he 
said. 

"  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do "  she  began. 

"Dismount,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  her 
tenderly. 

Lady  Alicia  never  quite  knew  how  it  hap- 
pened, but  certainly  she  found  herself  standing 
on  the  ground,  and  the  next  moment  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge  was  in  her  place. 

"An  old  soldier,"  he  exclaimed  gaily;  "I 
can't  resist  the  temptation  of  having  a  canter." 
And  with  that  he  started  at  a  gallop  towards 
the  gate. 

With  a  blasphemous  ejaculation  Moggridge 
sprang  from  behind  his  tree,  and  set  off  down 
the  drive  in  hot  pursuit. 

Lady  Alicia  screamed,  "Stop!  stop!  Francis — 
I  mean,  Mr.  Beveridge;  stop,  please!" 

But  the  favorite  of  the  crack  regiment,  despite 
the  lady's  saddle,  sat  his  steed  well,  and  rapidly 
left  cries  and  footsteps  far  behind.  The  lodge 
was  nearly  half  a  mile  away,  and  as  the  avenue 
wound  between  palisades  of  old  trees,  the  shouts 
became  muffled,  and  when  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder  he  saw  in  the  stretch  behind  him  no 


60          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

sign  of  benefactress  or  pursuer.  By  continued 
exhortations  and  the  point  of  his  penknife  he 
kept  his  horse  at  full  stretch;  round  the  next 
bend  he  knew  he  should  see  the  gates. 

"  Five  to  one  on  the  blank  things  being  shut," 
he  muttered. 

He  swept  round  the  curve,  and  there  ahead  of 
him  he  saw  the  gates  grimly  closed,  and  at  the 
lodge  door  a  dismounted  groom,  standing  beside 
his  horse. 

Only  remarking  "Damn!"  he  reined  up, 
turned,  and  trotted  quietly  back  again.  Pres- 
ently he  met  Moggridge,  red  in  the  face,  muddy 
as  to  his  trousers,  and  panting  hard. 

"Nice  little  nag  this,  Moggridge,"  he  re- 
marked, airily. 

"Nice  sweat  you've  give  me,"  rejoined  his  at- 
tendant, wrath  fully. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  ran  after  me ?  " 

"I  does  mean  to  say,"  Moggridge  replied 
grimly,  seizing  the  reins. 

"Want  to  lead  him  ?  Very  well— it  makes  us 
look  quite  like  the  Derby  winner  coming  in." 

"Derby  loser  you  means,  thanks  to  them  gates 
bein'  shut." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         61 

"Gates  shut?  Were  they?  I  didn't  happen 
to  notice." 

"No,  o'  course  not,"  said  Moggridge,  sarcastic- 
ally; "  that  there  sunstroke  you  got  in  India  pre- 
vented you,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Have  a  cigar?" 

To  this  overture  Moggridge  made  no  reply. 
Mr.  Beveridge  laughed  and  continued  lightly,  "I 
had  no  idea  you  were  so  fond  of  exercise.  I'd 
have  given  you  a  lead  all  round  the  park  if  I'd 
known." 

"You'd  'ave  given  me  a  lead  all  round  the 
county  if  them  gates  'ad  been  open." 

"It  might  have  been  difficult  to  stop  this 
fiery  animal,"  Mr.  Beveridge  admitted,  "But 
now,  Moggridge,  the  run  is  over.  I  think  I 
can  take  Lady  Alicia's  horse  back  to  her  my- 
self." 

Moggridge  smiled  grimly. 

"You  won't  let  go  ?" 

"No  fears." 

Mr.  Beveridge  put  his  hand  behind  his  back 
and  silently  drove  the  penknife  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  into  his  mount's  hind  quarters.  In  an  in- 
stant his  keeper  felt  himself  being  lifted  nearly 


62          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

off  his  feet,  and  in  another  actually  deposited  on 
his  face.  Off  went  the  accomplished  horseman 
again  at  top  speed,  but  this  time  back  to  Lady 
Alicia.  He  saw  her  standing  by  the  side  of  the 
drive,  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  a  penitent 
and  disconsolate  little  figure.  When  she  heard 
him  coming,  she  dried  her  eyes  and  looked  up, 
but  her  face  was  still  tearful. 

"Well,  I  am  back  from  my  ride,"  he  re- 
marked in  a  perfectly  usual  voice,  dismounting 
as  he  spoke. 

"The  man!"  she  cried,  "where  is  that  dread- 
ful man  ?  " 

"What  man  ?"  he  asked  in  some  surprise. 

"  The  man  who  chased  you." 

Mr.  Beveridge  laughed  aloud,  at  which  Lady 
Alicia  took  fresh  refuge  in  her  handkerchief. 

"  He  follows  on  foot,"  he  replied. 

"Did  he  catch  you?  Oh,  why  didn't  you 
escape  altogether  ?  "  she  sobbed. 

Mr.  Beveridge  looked  at  her  with  growing 
interest. 

"I  had  begun  to  forget  my  petticoat  psychol- 
ogy," he  reflected  (aloud,  after  his  unconven- 
tional fashion). 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE          63 

"Oh,  here  he  comes/' she  shuddered.  "All 
blood!  Oh,  what  have  you  done  to  him  ?  " 

"On  my  honor,  nothing, — I  merely  haven't 
washed  his  face." 

By  this  time  Moggridge  was  coming  close 
upon  them. 

"  You  won't  forget  a  poor  soldier  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Beveridge  in  a  lower  voice. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"A  poor  soldier,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh, 
glancing  at  her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
"  So  poor  that  even  if  I  had  got  out,  I  could  only 
have  ridden  till  I  dropped." 

"  Would  you  accept ?  "  she  began,  timidly. 

"  What  day  ?  "  he  interrupted,  hurriedly. 

"  Tuesday,"  she  hesitated. 

"Four  o'clock,  again.  Same  place  as  before. 
When  I  whistle  throw  it  over  at  once." 

Before  they  had  time  to  say  more,  Moggridge, 
blood-and-gravel-stained,  came  up. 

"It's  all  right,  miss,"  he  said,  coming  between 
them;  "I'll  see  that  he  plays  no  more  of  'is 
tricks.  There's  nothin'  to  be  afrightened  of." 

"Stand  back!"  she  cried;  "don't  come  near 
me!" 


64          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Moggridge  was  too  staggered  at  this  outburst 
to  say  a  word. 

"Stand  away!"  she  said,  and  the  bewildered 
attendant  stood  away.  She  turned  to  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge. 

"  Now,  will  you  help  me  up  ?  " 

She  mounted  lightly,  said  a  brief  farewell,  and, 
forgetting  all  about  the  call  at  Clankwood  she 
had  ostensibly  come  to  pay,  turned  her  horse's 
head  towards  the  lodge. 

"Well,  I'm  blowed!"  said  Moggridge. 

"  They  do  blow  one,"  his  patient  assented. 

Naturally  enough  the  story  of  this  equestrian 
adventure  soon  ran  through  Clankwood.  The 
exact  particulars,  however,  were  a  little  hard  to 
collect,  for  while  Moggridge  supplied  many 
minute  and  picturesque  details,  illustrating  his 
own  activity  and  presence  of  mind  and  the  im- 
minent peril  of  the  Lady  Alicia,  Mr.  Beveridge 
recounted  an  equally  vivid  story  of  a  runaway 
horse  recovered  by  himself  to  its  fair  owner's 
unbounded  gratitude.  Official  opinion  natu- 
rally accepted  the  official  account,  and  for  the 
next  few  days  Mr.  Beveridge  became  an  object 
of  considerable  anxiety  and  mistrust. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          65 

"I  can't  make  the  man  out,"  said  Sherlaw  to 
Escott.  "I  had  begun  to  think  there  was  noth- 
ing much  the  matter  with  him." 

"No  more  there  is,"  replied  Escott.  "His 
memory  seems  to  me  to  have  suffered  from 
something,  and  he  simply  supplies  its  place  in 
conversation  from  his  imagination,  and  in  ac- 
tion from  the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  The 
methods  of  society  are  too  orthodox  for  such  an 
aberration,  and  as  his  friends  doubtless  pay  a 
handsome  fee  to  keep  him  here,  old  Congers 
labels  him  mad  and  locks  the  door  on  him." 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  official  opinion  was 
a  little  disturbed.  Lady  Alicia,  in  reply  to 
anxious  inquiries,  gave  a  third  version  of  the 
adventure,  from  which  nothing  in  particular 
could  be  gathered  except  that  nothing  in 
particular  had  happened. 

"What  do  you  make  of  this,  Escott?"  asked 
Dr.  Congleton,  laying  her  note  before  his 
assistant. 

"  Merely  that  a  woman  wrote  it." 

"  Hum!    I  suppose  that  is  the  explanation." 

Upon  which  the  doctor  looked  profound  and 
went  to  lunch. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"Two  five-pound  notes,  half-a-sovereign,  and 
seven  and  sixpence  in  silver,"  said  Mr.  Beveridge 
to  himself.  "Ah,  and  a  card." 

On  the  card  was  written,  "From  a  friend,  if 
you  will  accept  it.  A." 

He  was  standing  under  the  wall,  in  the 
secluded  walk,  holding  a  little  lady's  purse  in 
his  hand,  and  listening  to  two  different  foot- 
steps. One  little  pair  of  feet  were  hurrying  away 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  high  wall,  another  and 
larger  were  approaching  him  at  a  run. 

"  Wot's  he  bin  up  to  now,  I  wonder,"  Mogg- 
ridge  panted  to  himself — for  the  second  pair  of 
feet  belonged  to  him.  "Shamming  nose-bleed 
and  sending  me  in  for  an  'andkerchief,  and  then 
sneaking  off  here  by  'isself !  " 

"What  a  time  you've  been,"  said  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge, slipping  the  purse  with  its  contents  into 
his  pocket.  "  I  was  so  infernally  cold  I  had  to 
take  a  little  walk.  Got  the  handkerchief?" 

In  silence  and  with  a  suspicious  solemnity  Mogg- 
66 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          67 

ridge  handed  him  the  handkerchief,  and  they 
turned  back  for  the  house. 

"Now  for  a  balloon,"  Mr.  Beveridge  re- 
flected. 

Certainly  it  was  cold.  The  frost  nipped  sharp 
that  night,  and  next  morning  there  were  ice  gar- 
dens on  the  windows,  and  the  park  lay  white  all 
through  the  winter  sunshine. 

By  evening  the  private  lake  was  reported  to  be 
bearing,  and  the  next  day  it  hummed  under  the 
first  skaters.  Hardly  necessary  to  say  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge was  among  the  earliest  of  them,  or  that  he 
was  at  once  the  object  of  general  admiration  and 
envy.  He  traced  "vines  "and  "Q's,"  and  per- 
formed wonderful  feats  on  one  leg  all  morning. 
At  lunch  he  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  was 
off  again  at  once  to  the  ice. 

When  he  reached  the  lake  in  the  afternoon  the 
first  person  he  spied  was  Lady  Alicia,  and  five 
minutes  afterwards  they  were  sailing  off  together 
hand  in  hand. 

"I  knew  you  would  come  to-day,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  How  could  you  have  known  ?  It  was  by  the 
merest  chance  I  happened  to  come." 


68          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  It  has  always  been  by  the  merest  chance  that 
any  of  them  have  ever  come." 

"  Who  have  ever  come?"  she  inquired,  with  a 
vague  feeling  that  he  had  said  something  he 
ought  not  to  have,  and  that  she  was  doing  the 
same. 

"Many  things,"  he  smiled,  "including  purses. 
Which  reminds  me  that  I  am  eternally  your 
debtor." 

She  blushed  and  said,  "I  hope  you  didn't 
mind." 

"  Not  much,"  he  answered,  candidly.  "  In  my 
present  circumstances  a  five-pound  note  is  more 
acceptable  than  a  caress." 

The  Lady  Alicia  again  remembered  the  maid- 
enly proprieties,  and  tried  to  change  the  subject. 

"  What  beautiful  ice!  "  she  said. 

"The  question  now  is,"  he  continued,  paying 
no  heed  to  this  diversion,  "what  am  I  to  do 
next?" 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked  a  little  faintly, 
realizing  dimly  that  she  was  being  regarded  as  a 
fellow-conspirator  in  some  unlawful  project. 

"The  wall  is  high,  there  is  bottle-glass  on  the 
top,  and  I  shall  find  it  hard  to  bring  away  a  fresh 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          69 

pair  of  trousers,  and  probably  draughty  if  I  don't. 
The  gates  are  always  kept  closed,  and  it  isn't 
worth  any  one's  while  to  open  them  for  £\o, 
175.,  6d.,  less  the  price  of  a  first-class  ticket  up  to 
town.  What  are  we  to  do?" 

"We?"  she  gasped. 

"You  and  I,"  he  explained. 

"But— but  I  can't  possibly  do  anything." 

"  '  Can't  possibly '  is  a  phrase  I  have  learned  to 
misunderstand." 

"Really,  Mr.  Beveridge,  I  mustn't  do  any- 
thing." 

"Mustn't  is  an  invariable  preface  to  a  sin. 
Never  use  it;  it's  a  temptation  in  itself." 

"It  wouldn't  be  right,"  she  said,  with  quite  a 
show  of  firmness. 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  curiously.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  almost  seemed  puzzled.  Then  he  pressed 
her  hand  and  asked  tenderly,  "  Why  not?" 

And  in  a  half-audible  aside  he  added,  "  That's 
the  correct  move,  I  think." 

"What  did  you  say  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  said,  'Why  not?'  "  he  answered,  with  in- 
creasing tenderness. 

"  But  you  said  something  else," 


TO         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  I  added  a  brief  prayer  for  pity." 

Lady  Alicia  sighed  and  repeated  a  little  less 
firmly.  "It  wouldn't  be  right  of  me,  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge." 

"  But  what  would  be  wrong?" 

This  was  said  with  even  more  fervor. 

"My  conscience — we  are  very  particular,  you 
know." 

"Who  are  'we'?" 

"  Papa  is  very  strict  High  Church." 

An  idea  seemed  to  strike  Mr.  Beveridge,  for  he 
ruminated  in  silence. 

"  I  asked  Mr.  Candles — our  curate,  you  know," 
Lady  Alicia  continued,  with  a  heroic  effort  to 
make  her  position  clear. 

"  You  told  him!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  say  who  it  was— I  mean  what  it 
was  I  thought  of  doing — 1  mean  the  temptation 
— that  is,  the  possibility.  And  he  said  it  was  very 
kind  of  me  to  think  of  it;  but  I  mustn't  do  any- 
thing, and  he  advised  me  to  read  a  book  he  gave 
me,  and — and  I  mustn't  think  of  it,  really,  Mr. 
Beveridge." 

To  himself  Mr.  Beveridge  repeated  under  his 
breath,  "Archbishops,  bishops,  deacons,  curates, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          71 

fast  in  Lent,  and  an  anthem  after  the  Creed.  I 
think  1  remember  enough  to  pass." 

Then  he  assumed  a  very  serious  face,  and  said 
aloud,  "Your  scruples  do  your  heart  credit. 
They  have  given  me  an  insight  into  your  deep 
and  sweet  character,  which  emboldens  me  to 
make  a  confession." 

He  stopped  skating,  folded  his  arms,  and  con- 
tinued unblushingly,  "I  was  educated  for  the 
Church,  but  the  prejudices  of  my  parents,  the  im- 
mature scepticism  of  youth,  and  some  uncertainty 
about  obtaining  my  archbishopric,  induced  me  in 
an  unfortunate  moment,  which  I  never  ceased  to 
bitterly  regret,  to  quit  my  orders." 

"You  are  in  orders  ?"  she  exclaimed. 

"  1  was  in  several.  1  canceled  them,  and  en- 
tered the  Navy  instead." 

"  The  Navy  ?  "  she  asked,  excusably  bewildered 
by  these  rapid  changes  of  occupation. 

"  For  five  years  I  was  never  ashore." 

"  But,"  she  hesitated — "  but  you  said  you  were 
in  the  Army." 

Mr.  Beveridge  gave  her  a  look  full  of  benignant 
compassion  that  made  her,  she  did  not  quite  know 
why,  feel  terribly  abashed. 


Y2          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  My  regiment  was  quartered  at  sea,"  he  con- 
descended to  explain.  "But  in  time  my  con- 
science awoke.  I  announced  my  intention  of  re- 
suming my  charge.  My  uncle  was  furious.  My 
enemies  were  many.  I  was  seized,  thrown  into 
this  prison-house,  and  now  my  only  friend  fails 
me." 

They  were  both  silent.  She  ventured  once  to 
glance  up  at  his  face,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
his  eyes  were  moist— though  perhaps  it  was  that 
her  own  were  a  little  dim. 

"Let  us  skate  on,"  he  said,  abruptly,  with  a 
fine  air  of  resignation. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  suddenly  added,  "  I  was  ex- 
tremely High  Church,  in  fact  almost  freezingly 
high." 

For  five  minutes  they  skated  in  silence,  then 
Lady  Alicia  began  softly,  "Supposing  you — you 
went  away " 

"What  is  the  use  of  talking  of  it?"  he  ex- 
claimed, melodramatically.  "  Let  me  forget  my 
short-lived  hopes! " 

"You  have  a  friend,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"A  friend  who  tantalizes  me  by  'suppos- 
ings ' ! " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          73 

"  But  supposing  you  did,  Mr.  Beveridge,  would 
you  go  back  to  your — did  you  say  you  had  a 
parish?" 

"I  had:  a  large,  populous,  and  happy  parish. 
It  is  my  one  dream  to  sit  once  more  on  its  council 
and  direct  my  curate." 

"  Of  course  that  makes  a  difference.  Mr.  Can- 
dles didn't  know  all  this." 

They  had  come  by  this  time  to  the  corner  of  a 
little  island  that  lay  not  far  from  the  shore;  in  the 
channel  ahead  a  board  labeled  " Danger"  marked 
a  hidden  spring;  behind  them  the  shining  ice  was 
almost  bare  of  skaters,  for  all  but  Dr.  Escott 
seemed  to  be  leaving;  on  the  bank  they  could  see 
Moggridge  prowling  about  in  the  gathering  dusk, 
a  vigilant  reminder  of  captivity.  Mr.  Beveridge 
took  the  whole  scene  in  with,  it  is  to  be  feared,  a 
militant  rather  than  an  episcopal  eye.  Then  he 
suddenly  asked,  "  Are  you  alone  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  drive  back  ?" 

"Ye-es." 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  made  a  brief  calcu- 
lation. 

"Go  now,  call  at  Clankwood  or  do  anything 


Y4         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

else  you  like,  and  pass  down  the  drive  again  at 
a  quarter  to  five." 

This  sudden  pinning  of  her  irresolution  almost 
took  Lady  Alicia's  breath  away. 

"  But  I  never  said "  she  began. 

" My  dear  friend,"  he  interrupted,  "in  the  hour 
of  action  only  a  fool  ever  says.  Come  on." 

And  while  she  still  hesitated  they  were  off 
again. 

"But "  she  tried  to  expostulate. 

"My  dearest  friend,"  he  whispered,  "and  my 
dear  old  vicarage!" 

He  gave  her  no  time  to  protest.  Her  skates 
were  off,  she  was  on  her  way  to  her  carriage,  and 
he  was  striking  out  again  for  the  middle  of  the 
lake  before  she  had  time  to  collect  her  wits. 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  the  time. 
It  was  nearly  a  quarter-past  four.  Then  he  came 
up  to  Escott,  who  by  this  time  was  the  only  other 
soul  on  the  ice. 

"About  time  we  were  going  in,"  said  Escott. 

"Give  me  half-an-hour  more.  I'll  show  you 
how  to  do  that  vine  you  admired." 

"  All  right,"  assented  the  doctor. 

A  minute  or  two  later  Mr.  Beveridge,  as  if 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          75 

struck  by  a  sudden  reflection,  exclaimed,  "By 
Jove,  there's  that  poor  devil  Moggridge  freezing 
to  death  on  shore.  Can't  you  manage  to  look 
after  so  dangerous  a  lunatic  yourself  ?  It  is  his 
tea-time,  too." 

"Hallo,  so  he  is,"  replied  Escott;  "I'll  send 
him  up." 

And  so  there  were  only  left  the  two  men  on 
the  ice. 

For  a  little  the  lesson  went  on,  and  presently, 
leaving  the  doctor  to  practice,  Mr.  Beveridge 
skated  away  by  himself.  He  first  paused  oppo- 
site a  seat  on  the  bank  over  which  hung  Dr. 
Escott's  great  fur  coat.  This  spectacle  appeared 
to  afford  him  peculiar  pleasure.  Then  he  looked 
at  his  watch.  It  was  half-past  four.  He  shut 
the  watch  with  a  click,  threw  a  glance  at  his 
pupil,  and  struck  out  for  the  island.  If  the 
doctor  had  been  looking,  he  might  have  seen  him 
round  it  in  the  gloaming. 

Dr.  Escott,  leaning  far  on  his  outside  edge,  met 
him  as  he  returned. 

"What's  that  under  your  coat?"  he  asked. 

"A  picture  I  intend  to  ask  your  opinion  on 
presently,"  replied  Mr.  Beveridge;  and  he  added, 


76          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

with  his  most  charming  air,  "But  now,  before 
we  go  in,  let  me  give  you  a  ride  on  one  of  these 
chairs,  doctor." 

They  started  off,  the  pace  growing  faster  and 
faster,  and  presently  Dr.  Escott  saw  that  they 
were  going  behind  the  island. 

"  Look  out  for  the  spring!  "  he  cried. 

"It  must  be  bearing  now,"  replied  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge,  striking  out  harder  than  ever;  "they  have 
taken  away  the  board." 

"All  right,"  said  the  doctor,  "on  you  go." 

As  he  spoke  he  felt  a  violent  push,  and  the 
chair,  slewing  round  as  it  went,  flew  on  its 
course  unguided.  Mr.  Beveridge's  skates  rasped 
on  the  ice  with  a  spray  of  white  powder  as  he 
stopped  himself  suddenly.  Ahead  of  him  there 
was  a  rending  crack,  and  Dr.  Escott  and  his  chair 
disappeared.  Mr.  Beveridge  laughed  cheerfully, 
and  taking  from  under  his  coat  a  board  with  the 
legend  "Danger"  printed  in  large  characters 
across  its  face,  he  placed  it  beside  the  jagged 
hole. 

"Here  is  the  picture,  doctor,"  he  said,  as  a 
dripping,  gasping  head  came  up  for  the  second 
time.  "  I  must  ask  a  thousand  pardons  for  this 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE         7Y 

— shall  I  say,  liberty  ?  But,  as  you  know,  I'm  off 
my  head.  Good-night.  Let  me  recommend  a 
hot  drink  when  you  come  out.  There  are  only 
five  feet  of  water,  so  you  won't  drown."  And 
with  that  he  skated  rapidly  away. 

Escott  had  a  glimpse  of  him  vanishing  round 
the  corner  of  the  island,  and  then  the  ice  broke 
again,  and  down  he  went.  Four,  five,  six  times 
he  made  a  desperate  effort  to  get  out,  and  every 
time  the  thin  ice  tore  under  his  hands,  and  he 
slipped  back  again.  By  the  seventh  attempt  he 
had  broken  his  way  to  the  thicker  sheet;  he  got 
one  leg  up,  slipped,  got  it  up  again,  and  at  last, 
half  numbed  and  wholly  breathless,  he  was 
crawling  circumspectly  away.  When  at  last  he 
ventured  to  rise  to  his  feet,  he  skated  with  all  the 
speed  he  could  make  to  the  seat  where  he  had 
left  his  coat.  A  pair  of  skates  lay  there  instead, 
but  the  coat  had  vanished.  Dr.  Escott's  philo- 
sophical estimate  of  Mr.  Beveridge  became  con- 
siderably modified. 

"Thank  the  Lord,  he  can't  get  out  of  the 
grounds,"  he  said  to  himself;  "  what  a  dangerous 
devil  he  is!  But  he'll  be  sorry  for  this  perform- 
ance, or  I'm  mistaken." 


78 

When  he  arrived  at  the  house  his  first  inquiries 
were  for  his  tutor  in  the  art  of  vine-cutting,  and 
he  was  rather  surprised  to  hear  that  he  had  not 
yet  returned,  for  he  only  imagined  himself  the 
victim  of  a  peculiarly  ill-timed  practical  joke. 

Men  with  lanterns  were  sent  out  to  search  the 
park;  and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  Mr.  Beve- 
ridge.  Inquiries  were  made  at  the  lodge,  but  the 
gatekeeper  could  swear  that  only  a  single  carriage 
had  passed  through.  Dr.  Congleton  refused  at 
first  to  believe  that  he  could  possibly  have  got  out. 

"Our  arrangements  are  perfect, — the  thing's 
absurd,"  he  said,  peremptorily. 

"  That  there  man,  sir,"  replied  Moggridge,  who 
had  been  summoned,  "is  the  slipperiest  cus- 
tomer as  ever  I  seed.  'E's  hout,  sir,  I  believe." 

"We  might  at  least  try  the  stations,"  sug- 
gested Escott,  who  had  by  this  time  changed, 
and  indulged  in  the  hot  drink  recommended. 

The  doctor  began  to  be  a  little  shaken. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "I'll  send  a  man  to 
each  of  the  three  stations  within  walking  dis- 
tance; and  whether  he's  out  or  in,  we'll  have  him 
by  to-morrow  morning.  I've  always  taken  care 
that  he  had  no  money  in  his  pockets." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         79 

But  what  is  a  doctor's  care  against  a  woman's 
heart?  For  many  to-morrows  Clankwood  had 
to  lament  the  loss  of  the  gifted  Francis  Beve- 
ridge. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AT  sixteen  minutes  to  five  Mr.  Beveridge  stood 
by  the  side  of  the  Clankwood  Avenue,  comfort- 
ably wrapped  in  Dr.  Escott's  fur  coat,  and  smok- 
ing with  the  greatest  relish  one  of  Dr.  Escott's 
undeniable  cigars. 

It  was  almost  dark,  the  air  bit  keen,  the  dim 
park  with  its  population  of  black  trees  was  filled 
with  a  frosty,  eager  stillness.  All  round  the  in- 
visible wall  hemmed  him  in,  the  ten  pounds, 
seventeen  shillings,  and  sixpence  lay  useless  in 
his  pocket  till  that  was  past,  and  his  one  hope 
depended  on  a  woman.  But  Mr.  Beveridge  was 
an  amateur  in  the  sex,  and  he  smiled  compla- 
cently as  he  smoked. 

He  had  waited  barely  three  minutes  when  the 
quick  clatter  of  a  pair  of  horses  fell  on  his  ears, 
and  presently  the  lights  of  a  carriage  and  pair, 
driving  swiftly  away  from  Clankwood,  raked  the 
drive  on  either  side.  As  they  rattled  up  to  him 
he  gave  a  shout  to  the  coachman  to  stop,  and 

stepped  right  in  front  of  the  horses.     With  some- 
80 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          81 

thing  that  sounded  unlike  a  blessing,  the  pair 
were  thrown  almost  on  their  haunches  to  check 
them  in  time.  Never  stopping  to  explain,  he 
threw  open  the  door  and  sprang  in;  the  coach- 
man, hearing  no  sound  of  protest,  whipped  up 
again,  and  Mr.  Beveridge  found  himself  rolling 
through  the  park  of  Clankwood  in  the  Countess 
of  Grillyer's  carriage  with  a  very  timid  little  figure 
by  his  side.  Even  in  that  moment  of  triumphant 
excitement  the  excellence  of  his  manners  was  re- 
markable: the  first  thing  he  said  was,  "Do  you 
mind  smoking  ?" 

In  her  confusion  of  mind  Lady  Alicia  could 
only  reply,  "Oh,  no,"  and  not  till  some  time  after- 
wards did  she  remember  that  the  odor  of  a  cigar 
was  clinging  and  the  Countess's  nose  unusually 
sensitive. 

After  this  first  remark  he  leaned  back  in 
silence,  gradually  filling  the  carriage  with  a 
blue-gray  cloud,  and  looking  out  of  the  windows 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other.  They 
passed  quickly  through  the  lines  of  trees  and  the 
open  spaces  of  frosty  park-land,  they  drew  up  at 
the  lodge  for  a  moment,  he  heard  his  prison 
gates  swing  open,  the  harness  jingled  and  the 


82          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

hoofs  began  to  clatter  again,  a  swift  vision  of 
lighted  windows  and  a  man  looking  on  them 
incuriously  swept  by,  and  then  they  were  rolling 
over  a  country  road  between  hedgerows  and 
under  the  free  stars. 

It  was  the  Lady  Alicia  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  never  thought  you  would  really  come,"  she 
said. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  that  remark,"  he  re- 
plied, with  his  most  irresistible  smile;  "now  for 
some  more  practical  conversation." 

As  he  did  not  immediately  begin  this  conver- 
sation himself,  her  curiosity  overcame  her,  and 
she  asked,  "How  did  you  manage  to  get  out ? " 

"As  my  friend  Dr.  Escott  offered  no  opposi- 
tion, I  walked  away." 

"Did  he  really  let  you?" 

"  He  never  even  expostulated." 

"Then — then  it's  all  right?"  she  said,  with  an 
inexplicable  sensation  of  disappointment. 

"  Perfectly — so  far." 

"But— didn't  they  object?" 

"Not  yet,"  he  replied;  "objections  to  my 
movements  are  generally  made  after  they  have 
been  performed." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          83 

Somehow  she  felt  immensely  relieved  at  this 
hint  of  opposition. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  got  away,"  she  whispered, 
and  then  repented  in  a  flutter. 

"Not  more  so  than  I  am,"  he  answered,  press- 
ing her  hand. 

"And  now,"  he  added,  "I  should  like  to 
know  how  near  Ashditch  Junction  you  propose 
to  take  me." 

"Where  are  you  going  to,  Mr.  Beveridge?" 

The  "  Mr.  Beveridge  "  was  thrown  in  as  a  cor- 
rective to  the  hand  pressure. 

"To  London;  where  else,  my  Alicia?  With 
£10,  175.,  6d.  in  my  pocket,  I  shall  be  able  to  eat 
at  least  three  good  dinners,  and,  by  the  third  of 
them,  if  I  haven't  fallen  on  my  feet  it  will  be  the 
first  time  I  have  descended  so  unluckily." 

"But,"  she  asked,  considerably  disconcerted, 
"I  thought  you  were  going  back  to  your 
parish." 

For  a  moment  he  too  seemed  a  trifle  put  about. 
Then  he  replied  readily,  "So  I  am,  as  soon  as  I 
have  purchased  the  necessary  outfit,  restocked 
my  ecclesiastical  library,  and  called  on  my 
bishop." 


84          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

She  felt  greatly  relieved  at  this  justification  of 
her  share  in  the  adventure. 

"Drop  me  at  the  nearest  point  to  the  station," 
he  said. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  began — "  I  mean  I  think  you 
had  better  get  out  soon.  The  first  road  on  the 
right  will  take  you  straight  there,  and  we  had 
better  not  pass  it." 

"Then  I  must  bid  you  farewell,"  and  he  sighed 
most  effectively.  "Farewell,  my  benefactress, 
my  dear  Alicia  !  Shall  I  ever  see  you,  shall  I 
ever  hear  of  you  again  ?  " 

"  I  might — I  might  just  write  once;  if  you  will 
answer  it:  I  mean  if  you  would  care  to  hear  from 
such  a " 

She  found  it  difficult  to  finish,  and  prudently 
stopped. 

"Thanks,"  he  replied  cheerfully;  "do, — I  shall 
live  in  hopes.  I'd  better  stop  the  carriage  now." 

He  let  down  the  window,  when  she  said 
hastily,  "  But  I  don't  know  your  address." 

He  reflected  for  an  instant.  "  Care  of  the 
Archbishop  of  York  will  always  find  me,"  he 
replied;  and  as  if  unwilling  to  let  his  emotion  be 
observed,  he  immediately  put  his  head  out  of 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          85 

the  window  and  called  on  the  coachman  to 
stop. 

"Good-bye,"  he  whispered,  tenderly,  squeez- 
ing her  fingers  with  one  hand  and  opening  the 
the  door  with  the  other. 

"Don't  quite  forget  me,"  she  whispered  back. 

"Never!"  he  replied,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
getting  out  when  he  suddenly  turned,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  I  must  be  more  out  of  practice  than  I 
thought;  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  protested 
salute." 

And  without  further  preamble  the  Lady  Alicia 
found  herself  kissed  at  last. 

He  jumped  out  and  shut  the  door,  and  the  car- 
riage with  its  faint  halo  clattered  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

"They  are  wonderfully  alike,"  he  reflected. 

About  twenty  minutes  later  he  walked  leisurely 
into  Ashditch  Junction,  and  having  singled  out 
the  station-master,  he  accosted  him  with  an  air  of 
beneficent  consideration  and  inquired  how  soon 
he  could  catch  a  train  for  London. 

It  appeared  that  the  up  express  was  not  due  for 
nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

"  A  little  too  long  to  wait,"  he  said  to  himself, 


86         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

as  he  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  purloined  fur 
coat  to  keep  out  the  cold  and  picked  another  cigar 
from  its  rightful  owner's  case. 

By  way  of  further  defying  the  temperature  and 
cementing  his  acquaintance  with  the  station- 
master,  he  offered  to  regale  that  gratified  official 
with  such  refreshments  as  the  station  bar  pro- 
vided. In  the  consumption  of  whiskies-and- 
sodas  (a  beverage  difficult  to  obtain  in  any 
quantity  at  Clankwood)  Mr.  Beveridge  showed 
himself  as  accomplished  as  in  every  other  feat. 
In  thirty-five  minutes  he  had  despatched  no  fewer 
than  six,  besides  completely  winning  the  station- 
master's  heart.  As  he  had  little  more  than  five 
minutes  now  to  wait,  he  bade  a  genial  farewell  to 
the  lady  behind  the  bar,  and  started  to  purchase 
his  ticket. 

Hardly  had  he  left  the  door  of  the  refreshment 
room  when  he  perceived  an  uncomfortably 
familiar  figure  just  arrived,  breathlesjs  with  run- 
ning, on  the  opposite  platform.  The  light  of  a 
lamp  fell  on  his  shining  face:  it  was  Moggridge  ! 

A  stout  heart  might  be  forgiven  for  sinking  at 
the  sight,  but  Mr.  Beveridge  merely  turned  to  his 
now  firm  friends  and  said  with  his  easiest  air, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         87 

"On  the  opposite  platform  I  perceive  one  of  my 
runaway  lunatics.  Bring  a  couple  of  stout  porters 
as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  he  is  a  person  of  much 
strength  and  address.  My  name,"  he  drew  a 
card-case  from  the  pocket  of  his  fur  coat,  "  is,  as 
you  see,  Dr.  Escott  of  Clankwood." 

Meanwhile  Moggridge,  after  hurriedly  in- 
vestigating the  platform  he  was  on,  suddenly 
spied  a  tall  fur-coated  figure  on  the  opposite  side. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  sprang  onto 
the  rails,  and  had  just  mounted  the  other  side  as 
the  station-master  and  two  porters  appeared. 

Seeing  his  allies  by  his  side  Mr.  Beveridge 
never  said  a  word,  but,  throwing  off  his  hat,  he 
lowered  his  head,  charged  his  keeper,  and  pick- 
ing him  up  by  the  knees  threw  him  heavily  on 
his  back.  Before  he  had  a  chance  of  recovering 
himself  the  other  three  were  seated  on  his  chest 
employed  in  winding  a  coil  of  rope  round  and 
round  his  prostrate  form. 

Two  minutes  later  Moggridge  was  sitting 
bound  hand  and  foot  in  the  booking  office,  ad- 
dressing an  amused  audience  in  a  strain  of  per- 
haps excusable  exasperation,  which  however 
merely  served  to  impress  the  Ashditch  officials 


88          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

with  a  growing  sense  of  their  address  in  captur- 
ing so  dangerous  a  lunatic.  In  the  middle  of  this 
entertaining  scene  the  London  express  steamed 
in,  and  Mr.  Beveridge,  courteously  thanking  the 
station-master  for  his  assistance,  stepped  into  a 
first-class  carriage. 

"  I  should  be  much  obliged,"  he  said,  leaning 
on  the  door  of  his  compartment  and  blowing  the 
smoke  of  Dr.  Escott's  last  Havanna  lightly  from 
his  lips,  "if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to  keep 
that  poor  fellow  in  the  station  till  to-morrow.  It 
is  rather  too  late  to  send  him  back  now.  Good- 
night, and  many  thanks." 

He  pressed  a  coin  into  the  station-master's 
hand,  which  that  disappointed  official  only  dis- 
covered on  emptying  his  pockets  at  night  to  be 
an  ordinary  sixpence,  the  guard  whistled,  and 
one  by  one,  smoothly  and  slowly  and  then  in  a 
bright  stream,  the  station  lamps  slipped  by. 
The  last  of  them  flitted  into  the  night,  and  the 
train  swung  and  rattled  by  a  mile  a  minute 
nearer  to  London  town  and  farther  from  the  high 
stone  wall.  There  was  no  other  stop,  and  for  a 
long  hour  the  adventurer  sat  with  his  legs  lux- 
uriously stretched  along  the  cushions  looking  out 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          89 

into  a  fainter  duplicate  of  his  carriage,  pierced 
now  and  then  by  the  glitter  of  brighter  points  as 
they  whisked  by  some  wayside  village,  or 
crossed  by  the  black  shadows  of  trees.  The 
whole  time  he  smiled  contentedly,  doubtless  at 
the  prospect  of  his  parish  work.  All  at  once  he 
seemed  stirred,  and,  turning  in  his  seat,  laid  his 
face  upon  the  window,  and  pulled  down  the 
blind  behind  his  head,  so  that  he  could  see  into 
the  night.  He  had  spied  the  first  bright  fila- 
ments of  London.  Quickly  they  spread  into  a 
twinkling  network,  and  then  as  quickly  were 
shut  out  by  the  first  line  of  suburb  houses; 
through  the  gaps  they  grew  nearer  and  flared 
cheerfully;  the  train  hooted  over  an  archway,  and 
in  the  road  below  he  had  a  glimpse  of  shop  win- 
dows and  crowded  pavements  and  moving 
omnibuses:  he  was  in  the  world  again,  and  at  the 
foretaste  of  all  this  life  he  laughed  like  a  delighted 
child.  Last  of  all  came  the  spread  of  shining 
rails  and  the  red  and  yellow  lights  of  many  sig- 
nals, and  then  the  high  glass  roof  and  long  lamp- 
lit  platforms  of  St.  Euston's  Cross. 

Unencumbered    by    luggage    or    plans,    Mr. 
Francis  Beveridge  stuck  his  hands  deep  in  his 


90          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

pockets  and  strolled  aimlessly  enough  out  of  the 
station  into  the  tideway  of  the  Huston  Road. 
For  a  little  he  stood  stock-still  on  the  pavement 
watching  the  throng  of  people  and  the  perpetual 
buses  and  drays  and  the  jingling  hansoms  picking 
their  way  through  it  all. 

"For  a  man  of  brains,"  he  moralized,  "even 
though  he  be  certified  as  insane,  for  probably  the 
best  of  reasons,  this  London  has  surely  fools 
enough  to  provide  him  with  all  he  needs  and 
more  than  he  deserves.  I  shall  set  out  with  my 
lantern  like  a  second  Diogenes  to  look  for  a 
foolish  man." 

And  so  he  strolled  along  again  to  the  first 
opening  southwards.  That  led  him  through  a 
region  of  dingy  enough  brick  by  day,  but  decked 
now  with  its  string  of  lamps  and  bright  shop- 
windows  here  and  there,  and  kept  alive  by  pass- 
ing buses  and  cabs  going  and  coming  from  the 
station.  Farther  on  the  street  grew  gloomier, 
and  a  dark  square  with  a  grove  of  trees  in  the 
middle  opened  off  one  side;  but,  rattle  or  quiet, 
flaring  shops  or  sad-looking  lodgings,  he  found  it 
all  too  fresh  and  amusing  to  hurry. 

"Back  to  my  parish  again,"  he  said  to  himself, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          91 

smiling  broadly  at  the  drollery  of  the  idea.  "  If 
I'm  caught  to-morrow,  I'll  at  least  have  one  merry 
night  in  my  wicked,  humorous  old  charge." 

He  reached  Holborn  and  turned  west  in  the 
happiest  and  most  enviable  of  moods;  the  very 
policemen  seemed  to  cast  a  friendly  eye  on  him; 
the  frosty  air,  he  thought,  made  the  lights  burn 
brighter  and  the  crowd  move  more  briskly  than 
ever  he  had  seen  them.  Suddenly  the  sight  of  a 
hairdresser's  saloon  brought  an  inspiration.  He 
stroked  his  beard,  twisted  his  moustaches  half 
regretfully,  and  then  exclaiming,  "Exit  Mr.  Bev- 
cridge,"  turned  into  the  shop. 


PART  II 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Baron  Rudolf  von  Blitzenberg  sat  by  him- 
S4  /f  at  a  table  in  the  dining-room  of  the  Hotel 
M/iyonaise,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the 
largest  and  most  expensive  in  London.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  a  florid  and  burly  Teutonic 
typft  and  the  most  ingenuous  countenance.  Be- 
ing possessed  of  a  curious  and  enterprising  dis- 
posivion,  as  well  as  the  most  ample  means,  he 
had  teft  his  ancestral  castle  in  Bavaria  to  study 
for  a  few  months  the  customs  and  politics  of 
England.  In  the  language  he  was  already  profi- 
cient, and  he  had  promised  himself  an  amusing 
as  well  as  an  instructive  visit.  But,  although 
he  had  only  arrived  in  London  that  morning,  he 
was  already  beginning  to  feel  an  uncomfortable 
apprehension  lest  in  both  respects  he  should  be 

disappointed.     Though  his  introductions  were 
93 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE          93 

the  best  with  which  the  British  Ambassador 
could  supply  him,  they  were  only  three  or 
four  in  number, — for,  not  wishing  to  be  ham- 
pered with  too  many  acquaintances,  he  had 
rather  chosen  quality  than  quantity:  and  now, 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  he  had  found 
to  his  chagrin  that  in  every  case  the  families 
were  out  of  town.  In  fact,  so  far  as  he  could 
learn,  they  were  not  even  at  their  own  country 
seats.  One  was  abroad,  another  gone  to  the 
seaside  to  recover  from  the  mumps,  or  a  third 
paying  a  round  of  visits. 

The  disappointment  was  sharp,  he  felt  utterly 
at  sea  as  to  what  he  should  do,  and  he  was 
already  beginning  to  experience  the  loneliness 
of  a  single  mortal  in  a  crowded  hotel. 

As  the  frosty  evening  was  setting  in  and 
the  shops  were  being  lit,  he  had  strolled  out 
into  the  streets  in  the  vague  hope  of  meet- 
ing some  strange  foreign  adventure,  or  per- 
haps even  happily  lighting  upon  some  half- 
forgotten  diplomatic  acquaintance.  But  he 
found  the  pavements  crowded  with  a  throng 
who  took  no  notice  of  him  at  all,  but  seemed 
every  man  and  most  women  of  them  to  be 


94          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

pushing  steadily,  and  generally  silently,  to- 
wards a  million  mysterious  goals.  Not  that 
he  could  tell  they  were  silent  except  by  their 
set  lips,  for  the  noise  of  wheels  and  horses 
on  so  many  hundreds  of  miles  of  streets,  and 
the  cries  of  busmen  and  vendors  of  evening 
papers,  made  such  a  hubbub  that  he  felt  be- 
fore long  in  a  maze.  He  lost  his  way  four 
times,  and  was  patronizingly  set  right  by 
beneficent  policemen;  and  at  last,  feeling  like 
a  man  who  has  fallen  off  a  precipice  on  to 
a  soft  place — none  the  worse  but  quite  be- 
wildered— he  struggled  back  to  his  hotel. 
There  he  spun  out  his  time  by  watching 
the  people  come  and  go,  and  at  last  dressed 
with  extra  deliberation. 

About  eight  o'clock  he  sat  down  to  his  solitary 
dinner.  The  great  gilt  and  paneled  room  was 
full  of  diners  and  bustling  waiters,  but  there  was 
not  a  face  the  Baron  had  ever  seen  before.  He 
was  just  finishing  a  plate  of  whitebait  when  he 
observed  a  stranger  enter  the  room  and  stroll  in 
a  very  self-possessed  manner  down  the  middle, 
glancing  at  the  tables  round  him  as  though  he 
was  looking  either  for  a  friend  or  a  desirable 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE         95 

seat.  This  gentleman  was  tall,  fair,  and  clean- 
shaved  ;  he  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  well-fitting 
tweeds,  and  his  air  impressed  the  Baron  as  being 
natural  and  yet  distinguished.  At  last,  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  Baron,  who  felt  conscious  of 
undergoing  a  quick,  critical  scrutiny.  The 
table  at  which  that  nobleman  sat  was  laid 
for  two,  and  coming  apparently  to  a  sudden 
resolution,  the  good-looking  stranger  seated 
himself  in  the  vacant  chair.  In  an  agreeable 
voice  and  with  an  unmistakably  well-bred  air 
he  asked  a  waiter  for  the  wine-list,  and  then, 
like  a  man  with  an  excellent  appetite,  fell  to 
upon  the  various  hors  d'ceuvres,  the  entire  col- 
lection of  which,  in  fact,  he  consumed  in  a 
wonderfully  short  space  of  time.  The  Baron, 
being  himself  no  trifler  with  his  victuals,  re- 
garded this  feat  with  sympathetic  approval, 
and  began  to  feel  a  little  less  alone  in  the 
world.  His  naturally  open  disposition  was 
warmed  besides,  owing  to  a  slight  miscon- 
ception he  had  fallen  into,  perfectly  excusa- 
ble however  in  a  foreigner.  He  thought  he 
had  read  somewhere  that  port  was  the  usual 
accompaniment  to  the  first  courses  of  an  Eng- 


96          THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

lish  dinner,  and  as  his  waiter  had  been  some- 
what dilatory  in  bringing  him  the  more  sub- 
stantial items  of  the  repast,  he  had  already 
drunk  three  claret-glasses  of  this  cheering  wine. 
The  chill  recollections  of  his  sixteen  quarter- 
ings  and  the  exclusiveness  he  had  determined 
to  maintain  as  becoming  to  his  rank  were  al- 
ready melting,  and  he  met  the  stranger's  eye 
with  what  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not 
help  being  a  cordial  look. 

His  vis-d-vis  caught  the  glance,  smiled  back, 
and  immediately  asked,  with  the  most  charming 
politeness,  "Do  you  care,  sir,  to  split  a  bottle  of 
champagne?" 

"To — er — shplid?"  said  the  Baron,  with  a 
disappointed  consciousness  of  having  been  put 
at  a  loss  in  his  English  by  the  very  first  man 
who  had  spoken  to  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon, — I  am  afraid  I  was  un- 
intelligibly idiomatic.  To  divide,  I  should  say, 
you  consuming  one-half,  I  the  other.  Am  I 
clear,  sir?" 

For  a  moment  the  Baron  was  a  little  taken 
aback,  and  then  recollecting  that  the  dining 
habits  of  the  English  were  still  new  to  him, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         97 

he  concluded  that  the  suggestion  was  probably 
a  customary  act  of  courtesy.  He  had  already 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  gentleman  must 
be  a  person  of  rank,  and  he  replied  affably,"  Yah 
— zat  is,  vid  pleasure.  Zanks,  very." 

"The  pleasure  is  mine,"  said  the  stranger — 
"and  half  the  bottle,"  he  added,  smiling. 

The  Baron,  whose  perception  of  humor  had 
been  abnormally  increased  by  this  time,  laughed 
hilariously  at  the  infection  of  his  new  acquaint- 
ance's smile. 

"  Goot,  goot! "  he  cried.     "  Ach,  yah,  zo." 

"Am  I  right,  sir,  in  supposing  that,  despite 
the  perfection  of  your  English  accent,  I  cannot 
be  fortunate  enough  to  claim  you  as  a  country- 
man ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

The  Baron's  resolutions  of  reticence  had  van- 
ished altogether  before  such  unexpected  and  (he 
could  not  but  think)  un-English  friendliness.  He 
unburdened  his  heart  with  a  rush. 

"You  have  ze  right.  I  am  Deutsch.  I  have 
gom  to  England  zis  day  for  to  lairn  and  to  amuse 
myself.  But  mein,  vat  you  call  ? — introdogtions 
zey  are  not  inside,  zat  is  zey  are  from  off.  Not 
von,  all,  every  single  gone  to  ze  gentry  or  to 


98         THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

abroad.  I  am  alone,  I  eat  my  dinner  in  zolitude, 
I  am  pleased  to  meet  you,  sare." 

A  cork  popped  and  the  champagne  frothed 
into  the  stranger's  glass.  Raising  it  to  his  lips, 
he  said,  "  Prosit!  " 

"Prosit!"  responded  the  Baron,  enthusiastic- 
ally. "  You  know  ze  Deutsch,  sare  ?  " 

"  I  am  safer  in  English,  I  confess." 

"Ach,  das  ist  goot,  I  vant  for  to  practeese. 
Ve  vill  talk  English." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  stranger.  "I, 
too,  am  alone,  and  I  hold  myself  more  than  for- 
tunate in  making  your  acquaintance.  It's  a 
devilish  dull  world  when  one  can't  share  a 
bottle— or  a  brace  of  them,  for  the  matter  of 
that." 

"  You  know  London  ?  "  asked  the  Baron. 

"  I  used  to,  and  I  dare  say  my  memory  will  re- 
vive." 

"  I  know  it  not,  pairhaps  you  can  inform.  I 
haf  gom,  as  I  say,  to-day." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  the  stranger,  readily. 
"  In  fact,  if  you  are  ever  disengaged  I  may  pos- 
sibly be  able  to  act  as  showman." 

"  Showman !  "  roared  the  Baron,  thinking  he 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE         99 

had  discovered  a  jest.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Goot,  zehr 
goot!" 

The  other  looked  a  trifle  astonished  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  as  he  sipped  his  champagne  an 
expression  of  intense  satisfaction  came  over  his 
face. 

"  I  can  put  away  my  lantern,"  he  said  to  him- 
self,— "  I  have  found  him." 

"  May  I  have  the  boldness  to  ask  your  name, 
sir  ?  "  he  asked  aloud. 

"  Ze  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,"  that 
nobleman  replied.  "Yours,  sare — may  I  dare?" 

"  Francis  Bunker,  at  your  service,  Baron." 

"You  are  noble?"  queried  the  Baron,  a  little 
anxiously,  for  his  prejudices  on  this  point  were 
strong. 

"According  to  your  standard  I  believe  I  may 
say  so.  That's  to  say,  my  family  have  borne 
arms  for  two  hundred  odd  generations;  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  of  them  have  died  of  good  living; 
and  the  most  malicious  have  never  accused  us  of 
brains.  I  myself  may  not  be  very  typical,  but  I 
assure  you  it  isn't  my  ancestors'  fault." 

The  latter  part  of  this  explanation  entirely  puz- 
zled the  Baron.  The  first  statement,  though 


100        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

eminently  satisfactory,  was  also  a  little  bewil- 
dering. 

"  Two  hondred  generations  ?  "  he  asked  cour- 
teously. "  Zat  is  a  vary  old  family.  All  bore 
arms  you  say,  Mistair  Bonker  ?  " 

"All,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  gravely.  "The 
first  few  bore  tails  as  well." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha!  "  laughed  the  Baron.  "  You  are 
a  fonny  man  I  pairceive,  vat  you  call  clown, 
yes  ?  " 

"What  my  friends  call  clown,  and  I  call  wit," 
Mr.  Bunker  corrected. 

"  Vit!  Ha,  ha,  ha!"  roared  the  Baron,  whose 
mind  was  now  in  an  El  Dorado  of  humor  when 
jokes  grew  like  daisies.  His  loneliness  had  dis- 
appeared as  if  by  magic;  as  course  succeeded 
course  his  contentment  showed  itself  in  a  per- 
petually beaming  smile:  he  ceased  to  worry  even 
about  his  friend's  pedigree,  convinced  in  his 
mind  that  manners  so  delightful  and  distin- 
guished could  only  result  from  repeated  quarter- 
ings  and  unoccupied  forefathers.  Yet  by  the 
time  dessert  arrived  and  he  had  again  returned  to 
his  port,  he  began  to  feel  an  extreme  curiosity  to 
know  more  concerning  Mr.  Bunker.  He  himself 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        101 

had  volunteered  a  large  quantity  of  miscellaneous 
information:  about  Bavaria,  its  customs  and  its 
people,  more  especially  the  habits  and  history  of 
the  Blitzenberg  family ;  about  himself,  his  parent- 
age and  education;  all  about  his  family  ghost, 
his  official  position  as  hereditary  carpet-beater  to 
the  Bavarian  Court,  and  many  other  things 
equally  entertaining  and  instructive.  Mr.  Bun- 
ker, for  his  part,  had  so  far  confined  his  confi- 
dences to  his  name. 

"  My  dear  Bonker,"  said  the  Baron  at  last — he 
had  become  quite  familiar  by  this  time — "  vat 
make  you  in  London  ?  I  fear  you  are  bird  of 
passage.  Do  you  stay  long  ?  " 

Mr.  Bunker  cracked  a  nut,  looking  very  serious; 
then  he  leaned  on  one  elbow,  glanced  up  at  the 
ceiling  pensively,  and  sighed. 

"I  hope  I  do  not  ask  vat  I  should  not,"  the 
Baron  interposed,  courteously. 

"My  dear  Baron,  ask  what  you  like,"  replied 
Mr.  Bunker.  "  In  a  city  full  of  strangers,  or  of 
friends  who  have  forgotten  me,  you  alone  have 
my  confidence.  My  story  is  a  common  one  of 
youthful  folly  and  present  repentance,  but  such 
as  it  is,  you  are  welcome  to  it." 


102        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

The  Baron  gulped  down  half  a  glass  of  port 
and  leaned  forward  sympathetically. 

"My  father,"  Mr.  Bunker  continued  with  an 
air  of  half-sad  reminiscence,  "  is  one  of  the 
largest  landowners  and  the  head  of  one  of  the 
most  ancient  families  in  the  north  of  England.  I 
was  his  eldest  son  and  heir.  I  am  still,  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe,  his  eldest  son,  but  my 
heirship,  I  regret  to  say,  is  more  doubtful.  I 
spent  a  prodigal  youth  and  a  larger  sum  of 
money  than  my  poor  father  approved  of.  He 
was  a  strict  though  a  kind  parent,  and  for  the 
good  of  my  health  and  the  replenishment  of  the 
family  coffers,  which  had  been  sadly  drained  by 
my  extravagance,  he  sent  me  abroad.  There  I 
have  led  a  roving  life  for  the  last  six  years,  and 
at  last,  my  wild  oats  sown,  reaped,  and  gathered 
in  (and  a  well-filled  stackyard  they  made,  I  can 
assure  you),  I  decided  to  return  to  England  and 
become  an  ornament  to  respectable  society. 
Like  you,  I  arrived  in  London  to-day,  but  only  to 
find  to  my  disgust  that  my  family  have  gone  to 
winter  in  Egypt.  So  you  see  that  at  present  I  am 
like  a  shipwrecked  sailor  clinging  to  a  rock  and 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        103 

waiting,  with  what  patience  I  can  muster,  for  a 
boat  to  take  me  off." 

"  You  mean,"  inquired  the  Baron,  anxiously, 
"  that  you  vish  to  go  to  Egypt  at  vonce  ?  " 

"  I  had  thought  of  it;  though  there  is  a  diffi- 
culty in  the  way,  I  admit." 

"  You  vill  not  stay  zen  here  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Baron,  why  should  I  ?  I  have 
neither  friends  nor " 

He  stopped  abruptly. 

"I  do  not  like  to  zink  I  shall  lose  your  com- 
pany so  soon." 

"I  admit,"  allowed  Mr.  Bunker,  "that  this 
fortunate  meeting  tempts  me  to  stay." 

"  Vy  not?"  said  the  Baron,  cordially.  "Can 
your  fader  not  vait  to  see  you  ?" 

"  I  hardly  think  he  will  worry  about  me,  I 
confess." 

"  Zen  stay,  my  goot  Bonker!  " 

"  Unfortunately  there  is  the  same  difficulty  as 
stands  in  the  way  of  my  going  to  Egypt." 

''  And  may  I  inquire  vat  zat  is  ?  " 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker, 
with  an  air  of  reluctant  candor,  "my  funds  are 
rather  low.  I  had  trusted  to  finding  my  father 


104        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

at  home,  but  as  he  isn't,  why "  he  shrugged 

his  shoulders  and  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

The  Baron  seemed  struck  with  an  idea  which 
he  hesitated  to  express. 

"  Shall  we  smoke  ?  "  his  friend  suggested. 

"Vaiter!"  cried  the  Baron,  "bring  here  two 
best  cigars  and  two  coffee! " 

"  A  liquor,  Baron  ?" 

"  Ach,  yah.     Vat  for  you  ?  " 

"  A  liquor  brandy  suggests  itself." 

"  Vaiter!  and  two  brandy." 

"And  now,"  said  the  Baron,  "I  haf  an  idea, 
Bonker." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,  as  I  have 
said,  had  a  warm  heart.  He  was,  besides,  alone 
in  one  hundred  and  twenty  square  miles  of 
strangers  and  foreigners  when  he  had  happened 
upon  this  congenial  spirit.  He  began  in  a  tone 
of  the  most  ingenuous  friendliness  — 

"  I  haf  no  friends  here.  My  introdogtions  zey 
are  gone.  Bot  I  haf  moch  money,  and  I  vish  a, 
vat  you  say? — showman,  ha,  ha,  ha!  You  haf 
too  leetle  money  and  no  friends  and  you  can 
show.  You  show  and  I  will  loan  you  vat  you 
vish.  May  I  dare  to  suggest  ?  " 

"My  dear  Baron! " 

"Mygoot  Bonker!  I  am  in  airnest,  I  assure. 
Vy  not  ?  It  is  vun  gentleman  and  anozzer." 

"  You  are  far  too  kind." 

"It  is  to  myself  I  am  kind,  zen.  I  vant  a 
guide,  a  frient.  It  is  a  loan.  Do  not  scruple. 
Ven  your  fader  goms  you  can  pay  if  you  please. 
It  is  nozing  to  me." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Baron,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  like 
105 


106        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

a  man  persuaded  against  his  will,  "what  can  I 
say  ?  I  confess  I  might  find  a  little  difficulty  in 
replenishing  my  purse  without  resorting  to  disa- 
greeable means,  and  if  you  really  wish  my  so- 
ciety, why " 

"  Zen  it  is  a  bairgain  ?  "  cried  the  Baron. 

"  If  you  insist " 

"  I  insist.  Vaiter!  Alzo  two  ozzer  liquor. 
Ve  most  drink  to  ze  bairgain,  Bonker." 

They  pledged  each  other  cordially,  and  talked 
from  that  moment  like  old  friends.  The  Baron 
was  thoroughly  pleased  with  himself,  and  Mr. 
Bunker  seemed  no  less  gratified  at  his  own  good 
fortune.  Half  an  hour  went  quickly  by,  and 
then  the  Baron  exclaimed,  "  Let  us  do  zomzing 
to-night,  Bonker.  I  burn  for  to  begin  zis  show 
of  London." 

"  What  would  you  care  to  do,  Baron  ?  It  is 
rather  late,  I  am  afraid,  to  think  of  a  theatre. 
What  do  you  say  to  a  music-hall  ?  " 

"Music-hall?  I  haf  seen  zem  at  home. 
Damned  amusing,  das  ist  ze  expression,  yes  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  perfect  description." 

"Bot,"  continued  the  Baron,  solemnly,  "I 
must  not  begin  vid  ze  vickedest." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        107 

"And  yet,"  replied  his  friend,  persuasively, 
"  even  wickedness  needs  a  beginning." 

"Bot,  if  I  begin  I  may  not  stop.  Zomzing 
more  qviet  ze  first  night.  Haf  you  a  club  ?  " 

Mr.  Bunker  pondered  for  a  moment,  and  a  cu- 
rious smile  stole  across  his  face.  Then  it  van- 
ished, and  he  answered  readily,  "  Certainly, 
Baron,  an  excellent  idea.  I  haven't  been  to  my 
club  for  so  long  that  it  never  struck  me.  Let  us 
come." 

"Goot!  "  cried  the  Baron,  rising  with  alacrity. 

They  put  on  their  coats  (Mr.  Bunker's,  it  may 
be  remarked,  being  a  handsome  fur-lined  gar- 
ment), the  porter  hailed  a  cab,  and  the  driver 
was  ordered  to  take  them  to  the  Regent's  Club 
in  Pall  Mall.  The  Baron  knew  it  by  reputation 
as  the  most  exclusive  in  London,  and  his  opinion 
of  his  friend  rose  still  higher. 

They  joined  a  jingling  string  of  other  hansoms 
and  sped  swiftly  through  the  exhilarating  bustle 
of  the  streets.  To  the  Baron  it  seemed  as  if  a 
great  change  had  come  over  the  city  since  he 
wandered  disconsolately  before  dinner.  Carried 
swiftly  to  the  music  of  the  little  bells  through  the 
sharp  air  and  the  London  night  that  is  brighter 


108        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

than  day,  with  a  friend  by  his  side  and  a  good 
dinner  within,  he  marked  the  most  astonishing 
difference.  All  the  people  seemed  to  talk  and 
laugh,  and  for  his  own  part  he  found  it  hard  to 
keep  his  tongue  still. 

"I  know  ze  name  of  ze  Regent's,"  he  said; 
"  vun  club  of  ze  best,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  The  very  best  club,  Baron." 

"Zey  are  all  noble?" 

"  In  many  cases  the  receipts  for  their  escutch- 
eons are  still  in  their  pockets." 

Though  the  precise  significance  of  this  expla- 
nation was  not  quite  clear  to  the  Baron,  it 
sounded  eminently  satisfactory. 

"Zo?"he  said.  "I  shall  be  moch  interested 
to  see  zem." 

As  they  entered  the  club  the  porter  stared  at 
them  curiously,  and  even  made  a  movement  as 
though  he  would  step  out  and  address  them ;  but 
Mr.  Bunker,  wishing  him  a  courteous  good-even- 
ing, walked  briskly  up  to  the  hat-and-cloak  racks 
in  the  hall.  A  young  man  had  just  hung  up  his 
hat,  and  as  he  was  divesting  himself  of  his  coat, 
Mr.  Bunker  quickly  took  the  hat  down,  glanced 
at  the  name  inside,  and  replaced  it  on  iti  peg. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        109 

Then  he  held  out  his  hand  and  addressed  the 
young  man  cordially. 

"Good-evening,  Transome,  how  are  you?" 
said  he,  and,  heedless  of  the  look  of  surprise  on 
the  other's  face,  he  turned  towards  the  Baron  and 
added,  "Let  me  introduce  the  Baron  Rudolph 
von  Blitzenberg— Mr.  Transome.  The  Baron  has 
just  come  to  England,  and  I  thought  he  couldn't 
begin  better  than  by  a  visit  to  the  Regent's.  Let 
us  come  into  the  smoking-room." 

In  a  few-  minutes  they  were  all  on  the  best  of 
terms.  A  certain  perplexity  and  almost  shyness, 
that  the  young  man  showed  at  first,  vanished 
rapidly  before  the  Baron's  cordiality  and  Mr. 
Bunker's  well-bred  charm  of  manner. 

They  were  deeply  engrossed  in  a  discussion  on 
the  reigning  sovereign  of  the  Baron's  native  land, 
a  monarch  of  whose  enlightened  policy  that  no- 
bleman spoke  with  pardonable  pride,  when  two 
elderly  gentlemen  entered  the  room. 

"Who  are  these?"  Mr.  Bunker  whispered  to 
Transome.  "I  know  them  very  well,  but  I  am 
always  bad  at  names." 

"  Lord  Fabrigas  and  General  M'Dermott,"  re- 
plied Transome. 


110        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Instantly  Mr.  Bunker  rose  and  greeted  the  new- 
comers. 

"  Good-evening,  Lord  Fabrigas;  good-evening, 
General.  You  have  just  come  in  time  to  be  in- 
troduced to  the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg, 
whom  you  doubtless  know  by  reputation." 

The  Baron  rose  and  bowed,  and  it  struck  him 
that  elderly  English  gentlemen  were  singularly 
stiff  and  constrained  in  their  manner.  Mr. 
Bunker,  however,  continued  cheerfully,  "We  are 
just  going  to  have  a  smoking  concert.  Will  you 
begin,  Baron  ?  " 

"I  know  not  English  songs,"  replied  the 
Baron,  "  bot  I  should  like  moch  to  hear." 

"  You  must  join  in  the  chorus,  then." 

"Certainly,  Bonker.  I  haf  a  voice  zat  is  con- 
sidered— vat  you  call — deafening,  yes  ? — in  ze 
chorus." 

Mr.  Bunker  cleared  his  throat,  and,  just  as  the 
General  was  on  the  point  of  interposing  a  re- 
mark, struck  up  hastily;  and  for  the  first  time  in 
its  long  and  honorable  history  the  smoking-room 
of  the  Regent's  Club  reechoed  to  a  popular  music- 
hall  ditty. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE        111 

"  They  sometimes  call  'em  duckies,  they  sometimes  call  'em 

pets, 

And  sometimes  they  refer  to  'em  as  dears, 
They  live  on  little  matters  that  a  gentleman  forgets, 

In  a  little  world  of  giggles  and  of  tears  ; 
There  are  different  varieties  from  which  a  man  may  choose, 

There  are  sorts  and  shapes  and  sizes  without  end, 
But  the  kind  I'd  pick  myself  is  the  kind  you  introduce 
By  the  simple  title  of  '  my  lady  friend.'  " 

"Chorus,  Baron!"  And  then  he  trolled  in 
waltz  time  this  edifying  refrain  — 

"  My  lady  friend,  my  lady  friend ! 
Can't  you  twig,  dear  boys, 
From  the  sound  of  the  kisses 
She  isn't  my  misses, 
She's  only  my  lady  friend  !  " 

In  a  voice  like  a  train  going  over  a  bridge  the 
Baron  chimed  in  — 

"  My  laty  vrient,  my  laty  vrient ! 

Cannot  you  tvig,  mine  boy, 
Vrom  ze  sound  of  ze  kiss, 
He  is  not  my  miss, 
He  is  only  mine  laty  vrient !  " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  as  they  finished 
the  chorus,  "that  I  can't  remember  any  more. 
Now,  General,  it's  your  turn." 

"  Sir,"  replied  that  gallant  officer,  who  had  lis- 


112        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

tened  to  this  ditty  in  purple  and  petrified  aston- 
ishment, "I  don't  know  who  the  devil  you  are, 
but  I  can  tell  you,  you  won't  remain  a  member  of 
this  club  much  longer  if  you  come  into  it  again 
in  this  state." 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  with  even 
more  than  his  usual  politeness,  "  that  such  an  ad- 
mirable music-hall  critic  was  listening  to  me.  I 
must  apologize  for  my  poor  effort." 

Wishing  him  courteously  good-night,  he  took 
the  Baron  by  the  arm  and  walked  out.  While 
that  somewhat  perplexed  nobleman  was  strug- 
gling into  his  coat,  his  friend  rapidly  and  dexter- 
ously converted  all  the  silk  hats  he  could  see  into 
the  condition  of  collapsed  opera  hats,  and  then 
picked  a  small  hand-bag  off  the  floor.  The 
Baron  walked  out  through  the  door  first,  but  Mr. 
Bunker  stopped  for  an  instant  opposite  the  hall- 
porter's  box,  and  crying,  "Good-night  to  you, 
sir!"  hurled  the  bag  through  the  glass,  rushed 
after  his  friend,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell  they  were  tearing  up  Pall  Mall  in  a  hansom. 

For  a  few  minutes  both  were  silent;  then  the 
Baron  said  slowly,  "I  do  not  qvite  onderstand." 

"My  dear  Baron,"  his  friend  explained  gaily, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        113 

"  these  practical  jokes  are  very  common  in  our 
clubs.  They  are  quite  part  of  our  national  life, 
you  know,  and  I  thought  you  ought  to  see  every- 
thing." 

The  Baron  said  nothing,  but  he  began  to  realize 
that  he  was  indeed  in  a  foreign  country. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  VELL,  Bonker,  vat  show  to-day  ?  "  said  the 
Baron. 

Mr.  Bunker  sipped  his  coffee  and  smiled  back 
at  his  friend.  ; 

"  What  would  you  like  ?  "  said  he. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  Baron's  private  room 
finishing  one  of  the  renowned  Hotel  Mayonaise 
breakfasts.  Out  of  the  windows  they  could  see 
the  bright  curving  river,  the  bare  tops  of  the  Em- 
bankment trees,  a  file  of  barges  drifting  with 
the  tide,  and  cold-looking  clouds  hurrying  over 
the  chaos  of  brick  on  the  opposite  shore.  It  was 
a  bright  breezy  morning,  and  the  Baron  felt  in 
high  good-humor  with  his  surroundings.  On 
maturer  consideration,  the  entertaining  experience 
of  the  night  before  had  greatly  raised  Mr.  Bunker 
in  his  estimation.  He  had  chuckled  his  way 
through  a  substantial  breakfast,  and  in  such  good 
company  felt  ready  for  any  adventure  that  might 
turn  up. 

He  lit  a  cigar,  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  re- 
114 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        115 

plied  blandly,  "  I  am  in  your  hands.  I  am  ready 
to  enjoy  anyzing." 

"Do  you  wish  instruction  or  entertain- 
ment ?  " 

"  Mix  zem,  Bonker.  Entertain  by  instrogtion; 
instrogt  by  entertaining." 

"  You  are  epigrammatic,  Baron,  but  devilish 
vague.  I  presume,  however,  that  you  wish 
entertaining  experience  from  which  a  man  of 
your  philosophical  temperament  can  draw  a 
moral — afterwards. " 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron.  "Excellent! 
You  provide  ze  experiences  —  I  draw  ze 
moral." 

"And  we  share  the  entertainment.  The 
theory  is  perfect,  but  I'm  afraid  we  need  a 
programme.  Now,  on  my  own  first  visit  to 
London  I  remember  being  taken — by  the  hand 
— to  Madame  Tussaud's  Waxworks,  the  Tower, 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  fishmarket  at  Billings- 
gate, the  British  Museum,  and  a  number  of  other 
damnably  edifying  spectacles.  You  might  nat- 
urally suppose  that  after  such  a  round  it  would 
be  quite  superfluous  for  me  ever  to  come  up  to 
town  again.  Yet,  surprising  as  it  may  appear, 


most  of  the  knowledge  of  London  I  hope  to  put 
at  your  disposal  has  been  gained  in  the  course  of 
subsequent  visits." 

"Bot  zese  places — Tousaud,  Tower,  Paul's — 
are  zey  not  instrogtif  ?" 

"If  you  wish  to  learn  that  a  great  number  of 
years  ago  a  vast  quantity  of  inconsequent  events 
occurred,  or  that  in  an  otherwise  amusing 
enough  world  there  are  here  and  there  collected 
so  many  roomfuls  of  cheerless  articles,  I  can 
strongly  recommend  a  visit  to  the  Tower  of 
London  or  the  British  Museum." 

"In  mine  own  gentry,"  said  the  Baron, 
thoughtfully,  "I  can  lairn  zo  moch." 

"Then,  my  dear  Baron,  while  you  are  here 
forget  it  all." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Baron,  still  thoughtfully, 
"somzing  I  should  lairn  here." 

"  Certainly;  you  will  learn  something  of  what 
goes  on  underneath  a  waistcoat  and  a  little  of  the 
contents  of  a  corset  and  petticoat.  Also  of  the 
strange  customs  of  this  city  and  the  excellence 
of  British  institutions." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  Baron,  who 
thought  that  if  his  friend  had  not  actually  made 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        11? 

a.  jest,  it  was  at  least  time  for  one  to  occur.  "I 
see,  I  see.  I  draw  ze  moral,  ha,  ha!  " 

"This  morning,"  Mr.  Bunker  continued,  re- 
flectively, "we  might — let  me  see — well,  we 
might  do  a  little  shopping.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  Baron,  my  South  African  experiences  have 
somewhat  exhausted  my  wardrobe." 

"  Ach,  zo.  Cairtainly  ve  vill  shop.  Bot,  Bon- 
ker,  Soud  Africa  ?  Vas  it  not  Soud  America  ?  " 

"  Did  I  say  Africa  ?  America  of  course  I 
meant.  Well,  let  us  shop  if  you  have  no  ob- 
jections: then  we  might  have  a  little  lunch,  and 
afterwards  visit  the  Park.  For  the  evening, 
what  do  you  say  to  a  theatre?" 

"Goot!"  cried  the  Baron.     "Make  it  tzos." 

Mr.  Bunker's  shopping  turned  out  to  be  a 
pretty  extensive  operation. 

"  Loan  vat  you  please  of  money,"  said  his 
friend.  "A  gentleman  should  be  dressed  in 
agreement." 

With  now  and  then  an  apology  for  his  ex- 
travagance, he  took  full  advantage  of  the  Baron's 
generosity,  and  ordered  such  an  assortment  of 
garments  that  his  tailor  could  hardly  bow  low 
enough  to  express  his  gratification. 


118        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

After  an  excellent  lunch  in  the  most  expensive 
restaurant  to  be  found,  they  walked  arm-in-arm 
westwards  along  Piccadilly,  Mr.  Bunker  pointing 
out  the  various  objects  of  historical  or  ephemeral 
interest  to  be  seen  in  that  thoroughfare,  the 
Baron  drinking  in  this  information  with  the 
serious  air  of  the  distinguished  traveler. 

"And  now  we  come  to  the  Park,"  said  Mr. 
Bunker.  "Guard  your  heart,  Baron." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  replied  the  Baron.  "Zo  in- 
strogtion  is  feenished,  and  now  goms  entertain- 
ment, ha?" 

"With  the  moral  always  running  through  it, 
remember." 

"  I  shall  not  forget." 

The  sunshine  had  brought  out  a  great  many 
carriages  and  a  sprinkling  of  walkers  along  the 
railings.  The  two  friends  strolled  among  them, 
eyeing  the  women  and  stopping  now  and  then 
to  look  back  at  a  carriage. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  Baron,  "  zat  vile  you  haf 
been  avay  your  frients  have  forgot  you." 

As  he  spoke  a  young  man  looked  hard  at 
Mr.  Bunker,  and  even  made  a  movement  as 
though  he  would  stop  and  speak  to  him.  Mr. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE       119 

Bunker  looked  blandly  through  him  and  walked 
on. 

"  Do  you  not  know  zat  gentleman  ?  " 

"Which  gentleman  ?" 

"  Ze  young  man  zat  looked  so  at  you." 

"Some  young  men  have  a  way  of  staring 
here,  Baron." 

A  few  minutes  later  a  lady  in  a  passing  carriage 
looked  round  sharply  at  them  with  an  air  of  great 
surprise,  and  half  bowed. 

"Surely,"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  "zat  vas  a 
frient  of  yours! " 

"I  am  not  a  friend  of  hers,  then,"  Mr.  Bunker 
replied  with  a  laugh.  "  Her  bow  I  think  must 
have  been  aimed  at  you." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head,  and  seemed  to  be 
drawing  a  moral. 

"Baron,"  his  friend  exclaimed  suddenly,  "let 
us  go  back;  here  comes  one  of  our  most  popular 
phenomena,  a  London  fog.  We  need  not  stay 
in  the  Park  to  observe  it." 

The  sun  was  already  obscured;  there  stole  a 
most  insidious  chill  through  the  air;  like  the 
changing  of  a  scene  on  the  stage  they  found 
themselves  in  a  few  minutes  walking  in  a  little 


120        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

ring  of  trees  and  road  and  iron  railings  instead  of 
a  wide  sunny  park;  the  roar  of  the  streets  came 
from  behind  a  wall  of  mist  that  opened  mys- 
teriously to  let  a  phantom  carriage  in  and  out, 
and  closed  silently  behind  it  again. 

"  I  like  not  zis,"  said  the  Baron,  with  a  shiver. 

By  the  time  they  had  found  Piccadilly  again 
there  was  nothing  at  all  to  be  seen  but  the  light 
of  the  nearest  lamp,  as  large  and  far  away  as  a 
struggling  sun,  and  the  shadowy  people  who 
flitted  by. 

Their  talk  ceased.  The  Baron  turned  up  his 
collar  and  sucked  his  cigar  lugubriously,  and  Mr. 
Bunker  seemed  unusually  thoughtful.  They  had 
walked  nearly  as  far  as  Piccadilly  Circus  when 
they  were  pulled  up  by  a  cab  turning  down 
a  side-street.  There  was  a  lamp-post  at  the 
corner,  and  under  it  stood  a  burly  man,  his 
red  face  quite  visible  as  they  came  up  to  his 
shoulder. 

In  an  instant  Mr.  Bunker  seized  the  Baron  by 
the  arm,  pulled  him  round,  and  began  to  walk 
hastily  back  again. 

"Vat  for  zis? "said  the  Baron,  in  great  as- 
tonishment. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        121 

"We  have  come  too  far,  thanks  to  this  in- 
fernal fog.  We  must  cross  the  street  and 
take  the  first  turning  on  the  other  side.  I 
must  apologize,  Baron,  for  my  absence  of 
mind." 


The  cab  passed  by  and  the  red-faced  man 
strolled  on. 

"Like  lookin'  for  a  needle  in  a  bloomin'  hay- 
stack," he  said  to  himself.  "I  might  as  well 
go  back  to  Clankwood.  'E's  a  good  riddance, 
I  say." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  Baron  and  Mr.  Bunker  discussed  their 
dinner  with  the  relish  of  approving  connoisseurs. 
Mr.  Bunker  commended  the  hock,  and  suggested 
a  second  bottle;  the  Baron  praised  the  entries 
and  insisted  on  another  helping.  The  frequent 
laughter  arising  from  their  table  excited  general 
remark  throughout  the  room,  and  already  the 
waiters  were  whispering  to  the  other  guests  that 
this  was  a  German  nobleman  of  royal  blood  en- 
gaged in  a  diplomatic  mission  of  importance,  and 
his  friend  a  ducal  member  of  the  English  Cabinet, 
at  present,  for  reasons  of  state,  incognito. 

"Bonker!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  "I  am  in 
zat  frame  of  head  I  vant  a  romance,  an  adven- 
ture "  (lowering  his  voice  a  little),  "mit  a  beauti- 
ful lady,  Bonker." 

"It  must  be  a  romance,  Baron?" 

"A  novel,  a  story  to  tell  to  mine  frients.  In  a 
strange  city  man  expects  strange  zings." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  my  best  for  you,  but  I  confess 

122 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        123 

the  provision  of  romantic  adventures  is  a  little 
outside  the  programme  we've  arranged." 

"  Ha,  ha!     Ve  shall  see,  ve  shall  see,  Bonker!  " 

They  arrived  at  the  Corinthian  Theatre  about 
the  middle  of  the  first  act,  for,  as  Mr.  Bunker  ex- 
plained, it  is  always  well  to  produce  a  good  first 
impression,  and  few  more  effective  means  can  be 
devised  than  working  one's  way  to  the  middle 
of  a  line  of  stalls  with  the  play  already  in  prog- 
ress. 

Hardly  were  they  seated  when  the  Baron  drove 
his  elbow  into  his  friend's  ribs  (draped  for  the 
night,  it  may  be  remarked,  with  one  of  the 
Baron's  spare  dress-coats)  and  exclaimed  in  an 
excited  whisper,  "Next  to  you,  Bonker!  Ach, 
zehr  hupsch!" 

Even  before  this  hint  Mr.  Bunker  had  observed 
that  the  lady  on  the  other  side  of  him  was  pos- 
sessed of  exceptional  attractions.  For  a  little 
time  he  studied  her  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 
He  noticed  that  the  stall  on  the  farther  side  of  her 
was  empty,  that  she  once  or  twice  looked  round 
as  though  she  expected  somebody,  and  that  she 
seemed  not  altogether  unconscious  of  her  new 
neighbors.  He  further  observed  that  her  face 


124        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

was  of  a  type  that  is  more  usually  engaged  in  at- 
tack than  defense. 

Then  he  whispered,  "Would  you  like  to  know 
her?" 

' '  Ach,  yah ! "  replied  the  Baron,  eagerly.  ' '  Bot 
— can  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Bunker  smiled  confidently.  A  few  minutes 
later  he  happened  to  let  his  programme  fall  into 
her  lap. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  whispered,  softly,  and 
glanced  into  her  eyes  with  a  smile  ready. 

His  usual  discernment  had  not  failed  him.  She 
smiled,  and  instantly  he  produced  his. 

A  little  later  her  opera-glasses  happened  to  slip 
from  her  hand,  and  though  they  only  slipped 
slowly,  it  was  no  doubt  owing  to  his  ready  pres- 
ence of  mind  that  their  fall  was  averted. 

This  time  their  fingers  happened  to  touch,  and 
they  smiled  without  an  apology. 

He  leaned  towards  her,  looking,  however,  at 
the  play.  They  shared  a  laugh  over  a  joke  that 
she  might  have  been  excused  for  not  understand- 
ing; presently  a  criticism  of  some  situation  es- 
caped him  inadvertently,  and  she  smiled  again; 
soon  after  she  gave  an  exclamation  and  he  an- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        125 

swered  sympathetically,  and  at  the  end  of  the  act 
the  curtain  came  down  on  an  acquaintance  al- 
ready begun.  As  the  lights  were  turned  up,  and 
here  and  there  men  began  to  go  out,  she  again 
looked  at  the  entrances  in  some  apparent  concern, 
either  lest  some  one  should  not  come  in  or  lest 
some  one  should. 

"  He  is  late,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  smiling. 

She  gave  a  very  enticing  look  of  surprise,  and 
consented  to  smile  back  before  she  coyly  looked 
away  again. 

"An  erring  husband,  I  presume." 

She  admitted  that  it  was  in  fact  a  husband  who 
had  failed  her. 

"But,"  she  added,  "I'm  afraid — I  mean  I  ex- 
pect he'll  come  in  after  the  next  act.  It's  so  tire- 
some of  him  to  disappoint  me  like  this." 

Mr.  Bunker  expressed  the  deepest  sympathy 
with  her  unfortunate  predicament. 

"  He  has  his  ticket,  of  course  ?" 

But  it  seemed  that  she  had  both  the  tickets  with 
her,  an  arrangement  which  he  immediately  de- 
nounced as  likely  to  lead  to  difficulties  when  her 
husband  arrived.  He  further,  in  the  most  obliging 
manner,  suggested  that  he  should  take  the  ticket 


126        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

for  the  other  seat  to  the  booking  office  and  leave 
instructions  for  its  being  given  to  the  gentleman 
on  his  arrival.  The  lady  gave  him  a  curious  little 
glance  that  seemed  to  imply  a  mixture  of  doubt 
as  to  his  motives  with  confidence  in  his  abilities, 
and  then  with  many  thanks  agreed  to  his  sug- 
gestion. Mr.  Bunker  took  the  ticket  and  rose  at 
once. 

"  That  I  may  be  sure  you  are  in  good  company 
while  I  am  away,"  said  he,  "  permit  me  to  intro- 
duce my  friend  the  Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzen- 
berg." 

And  the  Baron  promptly  took  his  vacant  seat. 

On  his  return  Mr.  Bunker  found  his  friend 
wreathed  in  smiles  and  engaged  in  the  most  ani- 
mated conversation  with  the  lady,  and  before  the 
last  act  was  over,  he  gathered  from  such  scraps 
of  conversation  as  reached  his  ears  that  Rudolph 
von  Blitzenberg  had  little  to  learn  in  one  depart- 
ment of  a  nobleman's  duties. 

"I  wonder  where  my  husband  can  be,"  the 
lady  whispered. 

"Ach,  heed  him  not,  fair  lady,"  replied  the 
Baron.  "  Am  I  not  instead  of  a  hosband  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  a  very  naughty  man,  Baron." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        127 

"Ven  I  am  viz  you,"  the  gallant  Baron  an- 
swered, "1  forget  myself  all  hot  your  charms." 

These  advances  being  made  in  the  most  dulcet 
tones  of  which  the  nobleman  was  master,  and 
accompanied  by  the  most  enamored  expression, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  lady  permitted  herself 
to  listen  to  them  with  perhaps  too  ready  an  ear. 
What  Mr.  Bunker's  arrangement  with  the  book- 
ing clerk  had  been  was  never  quite  clear,  but 
certainly  the  erring  husband  failed  to  make  his 
appearance  at  all,  and  at  the  last  fall  of  the  cur- 
tain she  was  easily  persuaded  to  let  the  Baron 
escort  her  home. 

"  I  know  I  ought  not,  but  if  a  husband  deserts 
one  so  faithlessly,  what  can  I  do  ?  "  she  said,  with 
a  very  becoming  little  shrug  of  her  shoulders  and 
a  captivating  lift  of  her  eyebrows. 

"Ah,  vat  indeed?  He  desairves  not  so  fair  a 
consort." 

"  But  won't  it  be  troubling  you  ?" 

"  Trouble  ?    Pleasure  and  captivation !  " 

"Excuse  me,  Baron,"  said  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Bunker  at  his  elbow;  "if  you  will  wait  here  at 
the  door  I  shall  send  up  a  cab." 

"  Goot! "  cried  the  Baron,  "  a  zouzand  zanks! " 


128        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  I  myself,"  added  Mr.  Bunker,  with  a  profound 
bow  to  the  lady,  "shall  say  good-night  now. 
The  best  of  luck,  Baron!" 

In  a  few  minutes  a  hansom  drove  up,  and  the 
Baron,  springing  in  beside  his  charge,  told  the 
man  to  drive  to  602  Eaton  Square. 

"Not  too  qvickly!  "  he  added,  in  a  stage  aside. 

They  reached  Trafalgar  Square,  matters  inside 
going  harmoniously  as  a  marriage  bell, — almost, 
in  fact,  too  much  suggesting  that  simile. 

"Why  are  we  going  down  Whitehall?"  the 
lady  exclaimed,  suddenly. 

"I  know  not,"  replied  the  Baron,  placidly. 

"  Ask  him  where  he  is  going!  "  she  said. 

The  Baron,  as  in  duty  bound,  asked,  and  the 
reassuring  reply,  "All  right,  sir,"  came  back 
through  the  hole  in  the  roof. 

"I  seem  to  know  that  man's  voice,"  the  lady 
said.  "  He  must  have  driven  me  before." 

"To  me  all  ze  English  speak  ze  same,"  replied 
the  Baron.  "All  bot  you,  my  fairest,  viz  your 
sound  like  a  vat  you  call  ? — fiddle,  is  it  ?" 

Though  his  charmer  had  serious  misgivings  re- 
garding their  cabman's  topographical  knowledge, 
the  Baron's  company  proved  so  absorbing  that  it 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        129 

was  not  till  they  were  being  rapidly  driven  over 
Vauxhall  Bridge  that  she  at  last  took  alarm.  At 
first  the  Baron  strove  to  soothe  her  by  the  most 
approved  Teutonic  blandishments,  but  in  time  he 
too  began  to  feel  concerned,  and  in  a  voice  like 
thunder  he  repeatedly  called  upon  the  driver  to 
stop.  No  reply  was  vouchsafed,  and  the  pace 
merely  grew  the  more  reckless. 

"Can't  you  catch  the  reins?"  cried  the  lady, 
who  had  got  into  a  terrible  fright. 

The  Baron  twice  essayed  the  feat,  but  each  time 
a  heavy  blow  over  the  knuckles  from  the  butt- 
end  of  the  whip  forced  him  to  desist.  The  lady 
burst  into  tears.  The  Baron  swore  in  five  lan- 
guages alternately,  and  still  the  cab  pursued  its 
headlong  career  through  deserted  midnight 
streets,  past  infrequent  policemen  and  stray  be- 
lated revelers,  on  into  an  unknown  wilderness  of 
brick. 

"Oh,  don't  let  him  murder  me!"  sobbed  the 
lady. 

"Haf  cheer,  fairest;  he  shall  not  vile  I  am  viz 
you!  Gott  in  himmel,  ze  rascal!  Parbleu  und 
blood!  Goddam!  Vait  till  I  catch  him,  hell  and 
blitzen!  Haf  courage,  dear!" 


130        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE 

"Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear!"  wailed  the  lady.  "I 
shall  never  do  it  again! " 

They  must  have  covered  miles,  and  still  the 
speed  never  abated,  when  suddenly,  as  they  were 
rounding  a  sharp  corner,  the  horse  slipped  on  the 
frost-bound  road,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  Baron  and  the  lady  were  sitting  on  opposite 
sides  of  their  fallen  steed,  and  the  cabman  was 
rubbing  his  head  some  yards  in  front. 

"Teufel!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  rising  care- 
fully to  his  feet.  "Ach,  mine  dearest  vun,  art 
thou  hurt?" 

The  lady  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  though 
trying  to  decide  and  then  she  burst  into  hysterical 
laughter. 

"Ach,  zo,"  said  the  Baron,  much  relieved, 
"zen  vill  I  see  ze  cabman." 

That  individual  was  still  rubbing  his  head  with 
a  rueful  air,  and  the  Baron  was  about  to  pour 
forth  all  his  bottled-up  indignation,  when  at  the 
sight  of  the  driver's  face  he  started  back  in  blank 
astonishment. 

"Bonker!" 

"It  is  I  indeed,  my  dear  Baron,"  replied  that 
gentleman,  politely.  "I  must  ask  a  thousand 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        131 

pardons  for  causing  you  this  trifling  inconve- 
nience. As  to  your  friend,  I  don't  know  how  I 
am  to  make  my  peace  with  her." 

"  Bot — bot  vat  means  zis  ?"  gasped  the  Baron. 

"I  was  merely  endeavoring  to  provide  the 
spice  of  romance  you  required,  besides  giving 
you  the  opportunity  of  making  the  lady's  better 
acquaintance.  Can  I  do  anything  more  for  you, 
Baron  ?  And  you,  my  dear  lady,  can  I  assist  you 
in  any  way  ?  " 

Both,  speaking  at  once  and  with  some  heat, 
gave  a  decidedly  affirmative  answer. 

"Where  are  we?"  asked  the  lady,  who 
hovered  between  fright  and  indignation. 

Mr.  Bunker  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  would  be  rash  to  hazard  an  opinion,"  he 
replied. 

"Well!"  cried  the  lady,  her  indignation  quite 
overcoming  her  fright.  "Do  you  mean  to  say 
you've  brought  us  here  against  our  wills  and 
probably  got  me  into  dreadful  trouble,  and  you 
don't  even  know  where  we  are?" 

Mr.  Bunker  looked  up  at  the  heavens  with  a 
studious  air. 

"  One  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  something  of  our 


132        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

whereabouts  from  one  of  those  stars,"  he  replied; 
"but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  quite  know  which. 
In  short,  madame,  it  is  not  from  want  of  good- 
will, but  merely  through  ignorance,  that  I  cannot 
direct  you." 

The  lady  turned  impatiently  to  the  Baron. 

"  You've  helped  to  get  me  into  this  mess,"  she 
said,  tartly.  "  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"  My  fairest " 

"Don't!"  she  interrupted,  stamping  her  foot 
on  the  frosty  road,  and  then  inconsequently  burst 
into  tears.  The  Baron  and  Mr.  Bunker  looked  at 
one  another. 

"It  is  a  fine  night  for  a  walk,  and  the  cab,  I'm 
afraid,  is  smashed  beyond  hope  of  redemption. 
Give  the  lady  your  arm,  Baron;  we  must  even- 
tually arrive  somewhere." 

There  was  really  nothing  else  for  it,  so  leaving 
the  horse  and  cab  to  be  recovered  by  the  first 
policeman  who  chanced  to  pass,  they  set  out  on 
foot.  At  last,  after  half  an  hour's  ramble  through 
the  solitudes  of  South  London,  a  belated  cab  was 
hailed  and  all  three  got  inside.  Once  on  her  way 
home,  the  lady's  indignation  again  gave  way  to 
fright. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        133 

"What  am  I  to  do  ?  What  am  I  to  do ? "  she 
wailed.  "Oh,  whatever  will  my  husband  say  ?  " 

In  his  most  confident  and  irresistible  manner 
Mr.  Bunker  told  her  he  would  make  matters  all 
right  for  her  at  whatever  cost  to  himself;  and  so 
infectious  was  his  assurance,  that,  when  at  last 
they  reached  Eaton  Square,  she  allowed  him  to 
come  up  to  the  door  of  number  602.  The  Baron 
prudently  remained  in  the  cab,  for,  as  he  ex- 
plained, "My  English,  he  is  unsafe." 

After  a  prolonged  knocking  and  ringing  the 
door  at  length  opened,  and  an  irascible-looking, 
middle-aged  gentleman  appeared,  arrayed  in  a 
dressing-gown. 

"Louisa!"  he  cried.  "What  the  dev — 
where  on  earth  have  you  been  ?  The  police  are 
looking  for  you  all  over  London.  And  may  I 
venture  to  ask  who  this  is  with  you  ?" 

Mr.  Bunker  bowed  slightly  and  raised  his  hat. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "  we  found  this  lady  in 
a  lamentable  state  of  intoxication  in  the  Totten- 
ham Court  Road,  and  as  I  understand  you  have  a 
kind  of  reversionary  interest  in  her,  we  have 
brought  her  here.  As  for  you,  sir,  your  appear- 
ance is  so  unprepossessing  that  I  am  unable  to 


134        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

remain  any  longer.  Good-night,"  and  raising  his 
hat  again  he  entered  the  cab  and  drove  off,  assur- 
ing the  Baron  that  matters  were  satisfactorily  ar- 
ranged. 

"So  you  have  had  your  adventure,  Baron,"  he 
added,  with  a  smile. 

For  a  minute  or  two  the  Baron  was  silent. 
Then  he  broke  into  a  cheerful  guffaw,  "  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  You  are  a  fonny  devil,  Bonker  1  Ach,  bot  it 
vas  pleasant  vile  it  lasted!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

A  FEW  days  passed  in  the  most  entertaining 
manner.  A  menu  of  amusements  was  regularly 
prepared  suitable  to  a  catholic  taste,  and  at  every 
turn  the  Baron  was  struck  by  the  enterprise  and 
originality  of  his  friend.  He  had,  however,  a 
national  bent  for  serious  inquiry,  and  now  and 
then  doubts  crossed  his  mind  whether,  with  all 
his  moral  drawing,  he  was  acquiring  quite  as 
much  solid  information  as  he  had  set  out  to  gain. 
This  idea  grew  upon  him,  till  one  morning,  after 
gazing  for  some  time  at  the  English  newspaper 
he  always  made  a  point  of  reading,  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Bonker,  I  haf  a  doubt! " 

"I  have  many,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker;  "in  fact, 
I  have  few  positive  ideas  left." 

"  Bot  mine  is  a  particulair  doubt.  Do  I  lairn 
enoff?" 

"My  own  conception  of  enough  learning, 
Baron,  is  a  thing  like  a  threepenny-bit — the 
smallest  coin  one  can  do  one's  marketing  with." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Baron,  solemnly,  "  for  my 
'35 


136        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

own  share,  I  am  not  satisfied.  I  vould  lairn  more 
of  ze  British  institutions;  so  far  I  haf  lairned  of  ze 
pleasures  only." 

"My  dear  Baron,  they  are  the  British  institu- 
tions." 

The  Baron  shook  his  head  and  fell  to  his  paper 
again,  while  Mr.  Bunker  stretched  himself  on  the 
sofa  and  gazed  through  his  cigar-smoke  at  the 
ceiling.  Suddenly  the  Baron  gave  an  exclama- 
tion of  horror. 

"  My  dear  Baron,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Yet  anozer  outrage ! "  cried  the  Baron. 
"Zese  anarchists,  zey  are  too  scandalous.  At  all 
ze  stations  zere  are  detectives,  and  all  ze  ships  are 
being  vatched.  Ach,  it  is  terrible  !  " 

Mr.  Bunker  seemed  struck  with  an  idea,  for  he 
stared  at  the  ceiling  without  making  any  reply, 
and  his  eyes,  had  the  Baron  seen  them,  twinkled 
curiously. 

At  last  the  Baron  laid  down  his  paper. 

"  Veil,  vat  shall  ve  do  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Let  us  come  first  to  Liverpool  Street  Station, 
if  you  don't  mind,  Baron,"  his  friend  suggested. 
"I  have  something  in  the  cloak-room  there  1 
want  to  pick  up." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        137 

"My  dear  Bonker,  I  shall  go  vere  you  vill;  bot 
remember  I  vant  to-day  more  instrogtion  and  less 
entertainment." 

"  You  wish  to  see  the  practical  side  of  English 
life?" 

"Yah— zatis,  yes." 

Mr.  Bunker  smiled. 

"Then  I  must  entertain  myself." 

As  they  drove  down  he  was  in  his  wittiest 
humor,  and  the  Baron,  in  spite  of  his  desire  for 
instruction,  was  more  charmed  with  his  friend 
than  ever. 

"Vat  fonny  zing  vill  you  do  next,  eh?"  he 
asked,  as  they  walked  arm-in-arm  into  the  station. 

"I  am  no  more  the  humorist,  my  dear  Baron, 
— I  shall  endeavor  to  edify  you." 

They  had  arrived  at  a  busy  hour,  when  the 
platforms  were  crowded  with  passengers  and 
luggage.  A  train  had  just  come  in,  and  around 
it  the  bustle  was  at  its  height,  and  the  confusion 
most  bewildering. 

"  Wait  for  me  here,"  said  Mr.  Bunker;  "  I  shall 
be  back  in  a  minute." 

He  started  in  the  direction  of  the  cloak-room, 
and  then,  doubling  back  through  the  crowd, 


138        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

walked  down  the  platform  and  stopped  opposite 
a  luggage-van.  An  old  gentleman,  beside  him- 
self with  irritation,  was  struggling  with  the  aid 
of  a  porter  to  collect  his  luggage,  and  presently 
he  left  the  pile  he  had  got  together  and  made  a 
rush  in  the  direction  of  a  large  portmanteau  that 
was  just  being  tumbled  out.  Instantly  Mr.  Bun- 
ker picked  up  a  hand-bag  from  the  heap  and 
walked  quickly  off  with  it. 

"  Here  you  are,  Baron,"  he  said,  as  he  came  up 
to  his  friend.  "I  find  there  is  something  else  I 
must  do,  so  do  you  mind  holding  this  bag  for  a 
few  minutes  ?  If  you  will  walk  up  and  down  in 
front  of  the  refreshment-rooms  here,  I'll  find  you 
more  easily.  Is  it  troubling  you  too  much  ?" 

"Not  vun  bit,  Bonker.     I  am  in  yoursairvice." 

He  put  the  bag  into  the  Baron's  hand  with  his 
pleasantest  smile,  and  turned  away.  Rounding  a 
corner,  he  came  cautiously  back  again  through 
the  crowd  and  stepped  up  to  a  policeman. 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  that  man,  officer,"  he  said, 
in  a  low  confidential  voice,  and  an  air  of  quiet 
authority,  "and  put  your  plain-clothes' men  on 
his  track.  I  know  him  for  one  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous anarchists." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        139 

The  man  started  and  stared  hard  at  the  Baron, 
and  presently  that  unconscious  nobleman,  pacing 
the  platform  in  growing  wonder  at  Mr.  Bunker's 
lengthy  absence,  and  looking  anxiously  round 
him  on  all  sides,  noticed  with  surprise  that  a 
number  of  quietly  dressed  men,  with  no  appar- 
ent business  in  the  station,  were  eyeing  him 
with,  it  seemed  to  him,  an  interest  that  ap- 
proached suspicion.  In  time  he  grew  annoyed, 
he  returned  their  glances  with  his  haughtiest  and 
most  indignant  look,  and  finally,  stepping  up  to 
one  of  them,  asked  in  no  friendly  voice,  "Vat  for 
do  you  vatch  me?" 

The  man  returned  an  evasive  answer,  and  pass- 
ing one  of  his  fellow  officers,  whispered,  "  For- 
eign; I  was  sure  of  it." 

At  last  the  Baron  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and 
laying  the  bag  down  by  the  door  of  the  refresh- 
ment-room, turned  hastily  away.  On  the  instant 
Mr.  Bunker,  who  had  watched  these  proceedings 
from  a  safe  distance,  cried  in  a  loud  and  ago- 
nized voice,  "Down  with  your  men,  sergeant! 
Down,  lie  down!  It  will  explode  in  twenty 
seconds! " 

And  as  he  spoke  he  threw  himself  flat  on  his 


140        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

face.  So  infectious  were  his  commanding  voice 
and  his  note  of  alarm  that  one  after  another, 
detectives,  passengers,  and  porters,  cast  them- 
selves at  full  length  on  the  platform.  The  Baron, 
filled  with  terror  of  anarchist  plots,  was  one  of 
the  first  to  prostrate  himself,  and  at  that  there 
could  be  no  further  doubt  of  the  imminence  of 
the  peril. 

The  cabs  rattled  and  voices  sounded  from  out- 
side; an  engine  whistled  and  shunted  at  a  far 
platform,  but  never  before  at  that  hour  of  the  day 
had  Liverpool  Street  Station  been  so  silent.  All 
held  their  breath  and  heard  their  hearts  thump  as 
they  gazed  in  horrible  fascination  at  that  fatal 
bag,  or  with  closed  eyes  stumbled  through  a 
hasty  prayer.  Fully  a  minute  passed,  and  the 
suspense  was  growing  intolerable,  when  with  a 
loud  oath  an  old  gentleman  rose  to  his  feet  and 
walked  briskly  up  to  the  bag. 

"  Have  a  care,  sir!  For  Heaven's  sake  have  a 
care!"  cried  Mr.  Bunker;  but  the  old  gentleman 
merely  bent  over  the  terrible  object,  and,  picking 
it  up,  exclaimed  in  bewildered  wrath,  "It's  my 
bag!  Who  the  devil  brought  it  here,  and  what's 
the  meaning  of  this  d d  nonsense  ?  " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        141 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!"  roared  Mr.  Bunker; 
while  like  sheepish  mushrooms  the  people 
sprang  up  on  all  sides. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  coming  up  to 
the  old  gentleman,  and  raising  his  hat  with  his 
most  affable  air,  "  permit  me  to  congratulate  you 
on  recovering  your  lost  property,  and  allow  me 
further  to  introduce  my  friend  the  Baron  Rudolph 
von  Blitzenberg." 

"Baron  von  damned-humbug! "  cried  the  old 
gentleman.  "Did  you  take  my  bag,  sir?  and  if 
so,  are  you  a  thief  or  a  lunatic  ?  " 

For  an  instant  even  Mr.  Bunker  himself  seemed 
a  trifle  taken  aback;  then  he  replied  politely,  "  I 
am  not  a  thief,  sir." 

"  Then  what  'ave  you  been  doing  ?"  demanded 
the  sergeant. 

"Merely  demonstrating  to  my  friend  the  Baron 
the  extraordinary  vigilance  of  the  English  po- 
lice." 

For  a  time  neither  the  old  gentleman  nor  the 
sergeant  seemed  quite  capable  of  taking  the  same 
view  of  the  episode  as  Mr.  Bunker,  and,  curiously 
enough,  the  Baron  seemed  not  disinclined  to  let 
his  friend  extricate  himself  as  best  he  could.  No 


142        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

one,  however,  could  resist  Mr.  Bunker,  and  be- 
fore very  long  he  and  the  Baron  were  driving  up 
Bishopsgate  Street  together,  with  the  old  gentle- 
man's four-wheeler  lumbering  in  front  of  them. 

"Well,  Baron,  are  you  satisfied  with  your 
morning's  instruction  ?  "  asked  his  friend. 

"A  German  nobleman  is  not  used  to  be  in 
soch  a  position,"  replied  the  Baron,  stiffly. 

"You  must  admit,  however,  that  the  object- 
lesson  in  the  detection  of  anarchy  was  neatly 
presented." 

"I  admit  nozing  of  ze  kind,"  said  the  Baron 
stolidly. 

For  the  rest  of  the  drive  he  sat  obdurately 
silent.  He  went  to  his  room  with  the  mien  of  an 
offended  man.  During  lunch  he  only  opened  his 
lips  to  eat. 

On  his  side  Mr.  Bunker  maintained  a  cheerful 
composure,  and  seemed  not  a  whit  put  about 
by  his  friend's  lack  of  appreciation. 

"Anozzer  bottle  of  claret,''  said  the  Baron, 
gruffly,  to  a  waiter. 

Mr.  Bunker  let  him  consume  it  entirely  by  him- 
self, awaiting  the  results  with  patience.  Grad- 
ually his  face  relaxed  a  little,  until  all  at  once, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        143 

when  the  bump  in  the  bottom  of  the  bottle  was 
beginning  to  appear  above  the  wine,  the  whole 
room  was  startled  by  a  stentorian,  "  Ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

"  My  dear  Bonker! "  cried  the  Baron,  when  he 
had  finished  laughing,  "forgif  me!  I  begin  for 
to  see  ze  moral,  ha,  ha,  ha ! " 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Baron  expressed  no  further  wish  for  in- 
struction, but,  instead,  he  began  to  show  a  desire 
for  society. 

"  Doesn't  one  fool  suffice?"  his  friend  asked. 

"Ach,  yes,  my  vise  fool;  ha,  ha,  ha!  Bot 
sometimes  I  haf  ze  craving  for  peoples,  museec, 
dancing — in  vun  vord,  society,  Bonker!" 

"  But  this  is  not  the  season,  Baron.  You 
wouldn't  mix  with  any  but  the  best  society, 
would  you  ?  " 

"Zere  are  some  nobles  in  town.  In  my  paper 
I  see  Lord  zis,  Duke  of  zat,  in  London.  Pairhaps 
my  introdogtions  might  be  here  now." 

This  suggestion  seemed  to  strike  Mr.  Bunker 
unfavorably. 

"My  company  is  beginning  to  pall,  is  it, 
Baron?" 

"Ach,  no,  dear  Bonker!  I  vould  merely  go 
out  jost  vunce  or  tvice.  Haf  you  no  friends  now 
in  town  ?" 

An  idea  seemed  to  seize  Mr.  Bunker. 
144 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE        145 

"Let  me  see  the  paper,"  he  said. 

After  perusing  it  carefully  for  a  little,  he  at  last 
exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  pleased  discovery,  "  Hullo! 
I  see  that  Lady  Tulliwuddle  is  giving  a  reception 
and  dance  to-night.  Most  of  the  smart  people  in 
town  just  now  are  sure  to  be  there.  Would  you 
care  to  go,  Baron  ?  " 

"Ach,  surely,"  said  the  Baron,  eagerly.  "Bot 
haf  you  been  invited,  Bonker  ?" 

"Oh,  I  used  to  have  a  standing  invitation  to 
Lady  Tulliwuddle's  dances,  and  I'm  certain  she 
would  be  glad  to  see  me  again." 

"Can  you  take  me?" 

"Of  course,  my  dear  Baron,  she  will  be  hon- 
ored." 

"  Goot! "  cried  the  Baron.     "  Ve  shall  go." 

Mr.  Bunker  explained  that  it  was  the  proper 
thing  to  arrive  very  late,  and  so  it  was  not  till 
after  twelve  o'clock  that  they  left  the  Hotel 
Mayonaise  for  the  regions  of  Belgravia.  The 
Baron,  primed  with  a  bottle  of  champagne,  and 
arrayed  in  a  costume  which  Mr.  Bunker  had  as- 
sured him  was  the  very  latest  extreme  of  fashion, 
and  which  included  a  scarlet  watered  silk  waist- 
coat, a  pair  of  white  silk  socks,  and  a  lavender 


146        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

tie,  was  in  a  condition  of  cheerfulness  verging 
closely  on  hilarity.  Mr.  Bunker,  that,  as  he  said, 
he  might  better  serve  as  a  foil  to  his  friend's 
splendor,  went  more  inconspicuously  dressed, 
but  was  likewise  well  charged  with  champagne. 
He  too  was  in  his  happiest  vein,  and  the  vision  of 
the  Baron's  finery  appeared  to  afford  him  peculiar 
gratification. 

Their  hansom  stopped  in  front  of  a  large  and 
gaily  lit-up  mansion,  with  an  awning  leading  to 
the  door,  and  a  cluster  of  carriages  and  footmen 
by  the  kerbstone.  They  entered,  and  having  di- 
vested themselves  of  their  coats,  Mr.  Bunker  pro- 
posed that  they  should  immediately  seek  the 
supper-room. 

"  Bot  should  I  not  be  first  introduced  to  mine 
hostess?"  asked  the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron!  a  formal  reception  of  the 
guests  is  entirely  foreign  to  English  etiquette." 

"Zo?"  I  did  not  know  zat." 

The  supper-room  was  crowded,  and  having 
secured  a  table  with  some  difficulty,  Mr.  Bunker 
entered  immediately  into  conversation  with  a 
solitary  young  gentleman  who  was  consuming  a 
plate  of  oysters.  Before  they  had  exchanged  six 


sentences  the  young  man  had  entirely  succumbed 
to  Mr.  Bunker's  address,  aided  possibly  by  the 
young  man's  supper. 

"  Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friend  the  Baron 
Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg,  a  nobleman  strange  as 
yet  to  England,  but  renowned  throughout  his 
native  land  alike  for  his  talents  and  his  lofty 
position,"  said  Mr.  Bunker. 

"  Ach,  my  good  friend,"  exclaimed  the  Baron, 
grasping  the  young  man's  hand,  "das  ist 
Bonker's  vat  you  call  nonsense;  bot  I  am  de- 
lighted, zehr  delighted,  to  meet  you,  and  if  you 
gom  to  Bavaria  you  most  shoot  vid  me!  Bravo! 
Ha!" 

From  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  the  Baron 
was  in  a  genial  humor. 

"  Who  is  that  girl  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bunker,  point- 
ing to  an  extremely  pretty  damsel  just  leaving  the 
room. 

"Oh,  that's  my  cousin,  Lady  Muriel  Hilton. 
She's  thought  rather  pretty,  I  believe,"  answered 
the  young  man. 

" Do  you  mind  introducing  me?" 

"Certainly,"  said  their  new  friend.  "Come 
along." 


148        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

As  they  were  passing  through  the  room  a  little 
incident  occurred  that,  if  the  Baron's  perceptions 
had  been  keener,  might  have  given  him  cause  for 
some  speculation.  Two  men  standing  by  the 
door  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Bunker,  and  then  at  each 
other,  and  as  the  Baron  passed  them  he  heard  one 
say,  "  It  looks  devilish  like  him." 

"  He  has  shaved,  then,"  said  the  other. 

"Evidently,"  replied  the  first  speaker;  "but  I 
thought  he  was  unlikely  to  appear  in  any  society 
for  some  time." 

They  both  laughed,  and  the  Baron  heard  no 
more. 

When  they  reached  the  ballroom  the  band  was 
striking  up  a  polka,  and  presently  Mr.  Bunker, 
with  his  accustomed  grace,  was  tearing  round 
the  room  with  Lady  Muriel,  while  the  Baron — 
the  delight  of  all  eyes  in  his  red  waistcoat — led 
out  her  sister.  In  a  very  short  time  the  other 
dancers  found  the  Baron  and  his  friend's  on- 
slaught so  vigorous  that  prudence  compelled 
them  to  take  shelter  along  the  wall,  and  from  a 
safe  distance  admire  the  evolutions  of  these  two 
mysterious  guests. 

Mr.  Bunker  was  enlivening  the  monotony  of 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        149 

the  polka  by  the  judicious  introduction  of  horn- 
pipe steps,  while  the  Baron,  his  coat-tails  high 
above  his  head,  shouted  and  stamped  in  his  wild 
career. 

"Do  stop  for  a  minute,  Baron,"  gasped  his  fair 
partner. 

"Himmel,  nein!"  roared  the  Baron.  "1  haf 
gome  here  for  to  dance!  Ha,  Bonker!  ha!  " 

At  last  Lady  Muriel  had  to  stop  through  sheer 
exhaustion,  but  Mr.  Bunker,  merely  letting  her 
go,  pursued  his  solitary  way,  double-shuffling 
and  kicking  unimpeded. 

The  Baron  stopped,  breathless,  to  admire  him. 
Round  and  round  he  went,  the  only  figure  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  his  arms  akimbo,  his  feet 
rat-tatting  and  kicking  to  the  music,  while  high 
above  the  band  resounded  his  friend's  shouts  of 
"  Bravo,  Bonker!  Wunderschon!  Gott  in  him- 
mel,  higher,  higher!  "till  at  length,  missing  the 
wall  in  an  attempt  to  find  support,  the  Baron 
dropped  with  a  thud  into  a  sitting  posture  and 
continued  his  demonstrations  from  the  floor. 

Meanwhile  their  alarmed  hostess  was  holding 
a  hasty  consultation  with  her  husband,  and  when 
the  music  at  last  stopped  and  Mr.  Bunker  was 


150        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

advancing  with  his  most  courteous  air  towards 
his  late  partner,  Lord  Tulliwuddle  stepped  up  to 
him  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you,  sir?"  he  said. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker.  "I  shall 
be  honored.  Excuse  me  for  a  moment,  Lady 
Muriel." 

"  At  whose  invitation  have  you  come  here 
to-night  ?  "  demanded  his  host,  sternly. 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Lord  Tulli- 
wuddle, have  I  not  ?  " 

"You  have,  sir." 

Mr.  Bunker  bent  towards  him  and  whispered 
something  in  his  ear. 

"From  Scotland  Yard?"  exclaimed  his  lord- 
ship. 

"Hush!"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  glancing  cautiously 
round  the  room,  and  then  he  added,  with  an  air 
of  impressive  gravity,  "You  have  a  bathroom  on 
the  third  floor,  I  believe?" 

"I  have,"  replied  his  host  in  great  surprise. 

"Has  it  a  bell?" 

"No,  I  believe  not." 

"  Ah,  I  thought  so.  If  you  will  favor  me  by 
coming  up-stairs  for  a  minute,  my  Lord,  you  will 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        151 

avoid  a  serious  private  scandal.  Say  nothing 
about  it  at  present  to  any  one." 

In  blank  astonishment  and  some  alarm  Lord 
Tulliwuddle  went  up  with  him  to  the  third  floor, 
where  the  house  was  still  and  the  sounds  of 
revelry  reached  faintly. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  sir  ?"  he  asked. 

"If  I  am  right  in  my  conjectures  you  will  need 
no  explanation  from  me,  my  Lord." 

His  lordship  opened  a  door,  and  turning  on  an 
electric  light,  revealed  a  small  and  ordinary-look- 
ing bathroom. 

"  Ha,  no  bell — excellent!  "  said  Mr.  Bunker. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  the  key!"  ex- 
claimed his  host. 

"  Good-night,  my  Lord.  I  shall  tell  them  to 
send  up  breakfast  at  nine,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  and 
stepping  quickly  out,  he  shut  and  locked  the  door. 

A  minute  later  he  was  back  in  the  ballroom 
looking  anxiously  for  the  Baron,  but  that  noble- 
man was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"The  devil!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Can  they 
have  tackled  him  too?" 

But  as  he  ran  down-stairs  a  gust  of  cheerful 
laughter  set  his  mind  at  ease. 


152        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  Vere  is  old  Bonker?  He  also 
vill  shoot  vid  me!  " 

"Here  1  am,  my  dear  Baron,"  he  exclaimed 
gaily,  as  he  tracked  the  voice  into  the  supper- 
room. 

"Ach,  mine  dear  Bonker!"  cried  the  Baron, 
folding  him  in  his  muscular  embrace,  "I  haf  here 
met  friends,  ve  are  merry!  Ve  drink  to  Bavaria, 
to  England,  to  everyzing!  " 

The  "friends"  consisted  of  two  highly  amused 
young  men  and  two  half-scandalized,  half-hys- 
terical ladies,  into  the  midst  of  whose  supper- 
table  the  Baron  had  projected  himself  with 
infectious  hilarity.  They  all  looked  up  with 
great  curiosity  at  Mr.  Bunker,  but  that  gentleman 
was  not  in  the  least  put  about.  He  bowed  po- 
litely to  the  table  generally,  and  took  his  friend 
by  the  arm. 

"It  is  time  we  are  going,  Baron,  I'm  afraid," 
he  said. 

"Vat  for?  Ah,  not  yet,  Bonker,  not  yet.  I 
am  enjoying  myself  down  to  ze  floor.  I  most 
dance  again,  Bonker,  jost  vunce  more,"  pleaded 
the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron,  the  noblemen  of  highest  rank 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        153 

must  always  leave  first,  and  people  are  talking  of 
going  now.  Come  along,  old  man." 

"  Ha,  is  zat  so  ?  "  said  the  Baron.  "  Zen  vill  I 
go.  Good-night!"  he  cried,  waving  his  hand  to 
the  room  generally.  "  Ven  you  gom  to  Bavaria 
you  most  all  shoot  vid  me.  Bravo,  my  goot 
Bonker!  Ha!  ha!" 

As  they  turned  away  from  the  table,  one  of  the 
young  men,  who  had  been  looking  very  hard  at 
Mr.  Bunker,  rose  and  touched  his  sleeve. 

"  I  say,  aren't  you ?"  he  began. 

"  Possibly  I  am,"  interrupted  Mr.  Bunker, 
"only  I  haven't  the  slightest  recollection  of  the 
fact." 

An  astonished  lady  was  indicated  by  Mr. 
Bunker  as  the  hostess,  and  to  her  the  Baron  bade 
an  affectionate  adieu.  He  handed  a  sovereign  to 
the  footman,  embraced  the  butler,  and  as  they 
sped  eastwards  in  their  hansom,  a  rousing  chorus 
from  the  two  friends  awoke  the  echoes  of  Pic- 
cadilly. 

"  Bravo,  Bonker!  Himmel,  I  haf  enjoyed  my- 
self! "  sighed  the  exhausted  Baron. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  Baron  and  Mr.  Bunker  discussed  a  twelve 
o'clock  breakfast  with  the  relish  of  men  who  had 
done  a  good  night's  work.  The  Baron  was  full 
of  his  exploits.  "  Ze  lofly  Lady  Hilton  "  and  his 
new  "friends"  seemed  to  have  made  a  vivid 
impression. 

"  Zey  vill  be  in  ze  Park  to-day,  of  course  ?  "  he 
suggested. 

"  Possibly,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  without  any 
great  enthusiasm. 

"But  surely." 

"  After  a  dance  it  is  rather  unlikely." 

"Ze  Lady  Hilton  did  say  she  vent  to  ze 
Park." 

"To-day,  Baron?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  to-day.  I  did  dance  so 
hard  I  was  not  perhaps  distinct.  But  I  shall  go 
and  see." 

As  Mr.  Bunker's  attempts  to  throw  cold  water 
on  this  scheme  proved  quite  futile,  he  made  a 
graceful  virtue  of  necessity,  dressed  himself  with 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        155 

care,  and  set  out  in  the  afternoon  for  the  Park. 
They  had  only  walked  as  far  as  Piccadilly  Circus 
when  in  the  crowd  at  the  corner  his  eye  fell  upon 
a  familiar  figure.  It  was  the  burly,  red-faced 
man. 

"The  devil!  Moggridge  again!"  he  mut- 
tered. 

For  a  moment  he  thought  they  were  going  to 
pass  unobserved:  then  the  man  turned  his  head 
their  way,  and  Mr.  Bunker  saw  him  start.  He 
never  looked  over  his  shoulder,  but  after  walking 
a  little  farther  he  called  the  Baron's  attention  to  a 
shop  window,  and  they  stopped  to  look  at  it. 
Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  saw  Moggridge 
about  twenty  yards  behind  them  stopping  too. 
He  was  glancing  towards  them  very  doubtfully. 
Evidently  his  mind  was  not  yet  made  up,  and  at 
once  Mr.  Bunker's  fertile  brain  began  to  revolve 
plans. 

A  little  farther  on  they  paused  before  another 
window,  and  exactly  the  same  thing  happened. 
Then  Mr.  Bunker  made  up  his  mind.  He  looked 
carefully  at  the  cabs,  and  at  last  observed  a 
smart-looking  young  man  driving  a  fresh  likely 
horse  at  a  walking  pace  beside  the  pavement. 


156        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

He  caught  the  driver's  eye  and  raised  his  stick, 
and  turning  suddenly  to  the  Baron  with  a  gesture 
of  annoyance,  exclaimed,  "  Forgive  my  rudeness, 
Baron,  I'm  afraid  I  must  leave  you.  I  had  clean 
forgotten  an  important  engagement  in  the  city 
for  this  afternoon." 

"Appointment  in  ze  city?"  said  the  Baron  in 
considerable  surprise.  "  I  did  not  know  you  had 
friends  in  ze  city." 

"  I  have  just  heard  from  my  father's  man  of 
business,  and  I'm  afraid  it  would  be  impolitic 
not  to  see  him.  Do  you  mind  if  I  leave  you 
here  ?  " 

"Surely,  my  dear  fellow,  I  vould  not  stop  you. 
Already  I  feel  at  home  by  myself." 

"Then  we  shall  meet  at  the  hotel  before  din- 
ner. Good  luck  with  the  ladies,  Baron." 

Mr.  Bunker  jumped  into  the  cab,  saying  only 
to  the  driver,  "To  the  city,  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

"What  part,  sir?" 

"Oh,  say  the  Bank.     Hurry  up!  " 

Then  as  the  man  whipped  up,  Mr.  Bunker  had 
a  glimpse  of  Moggridge  hailing  another  cab,  and 
peeping  cautiously  through  the  little  window  at 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        157 

the  back  he  saw  him  starting  in  hot  pursuit.  He 
took  five  shillings  out  of  his  pocket  and  opened 
the  trap-door  in  the  roof. 

"  Do  you  see  that  other  cab  chasing  us,  with  a 
red-faced  man  inside?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Bunker  handed  his  driver  the  money. 

"Get  rid  of  him,  then.  Take  me  anywhere 
through  the  city  you  like,  and  when  he's  off  the 
scent  let  me  know." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  driver,  cracking 
his  whip  till  his  steed  began  to  move  past  the 
buses  and  the  other  cabs  like  a  train. 

On  they  flew,  clatter  and  jingle,  twisting  like 
a  snipe  through  the  traffic.  Mr.  Bunker  per- 
ceived that  he  had  a  good  horse  and  a  good 
driver,  and  he  smiled  in  pleasant  excitement. 
He  lit  a  cigar,  leaned  his  arms  on  the  doors, 
and  settled  himself  to  enjoy  the  race. 

The  black  lions  of  Trafalgar  Square  flew 
by,  then  the  colossal  hotels,  of  Northumber- 
land Avenue  and  the  railway  bridge  at  Char- 
ing Cross,  and  they  were  going  at  a  gal- 
lop along  the  Embankment.  He  got  swift 
glimpses  of  other  cabs  and  foot-passengers, 


158        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

the  trees  seemed  to  flit  past  like  telegraph- 
posts  on  a  railway,  the  barges  and  lighters 
on  the  river  dropped  one  by  one  behind 
them:  it  was  a  fair  course  for  a  race,  with 
never  a  check  before  Blackfriar's  Bridge. 

As  they  turned  into  Queen  Victoria  Street  he 
opened  the  lid  and  asked,  "Are  they  still  in 
sight?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I'm  afraid  we  ain't  gaining  much 
yet.  But  I'll  do  it,  sir,  no  fears." 

Mr.  Bunker  lay  back  and  laughed. 

"This  is  better  than  the  Park,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

They  had  a  fine  drive  up  Queen  Victoria  Street 
before  they  plunged  into  the  whirlpool  of  traffic 
at  the  Bank.  They  were  slowly  making  their 
way  across  when  the  driver,  spying  an  opening 
in  another  stream,  abruptly  wheeled  round  for 
Cornhill,  and  presently  they  were  off  again  at 
top  speed. 

"Thrown  them  off?"  asked  Mr.  Bunker. 

"Tried  to,  sir,  but  they  were  too  sharp  and 
got  clear  away  too." 

Mr.  Bunker  saw  that  it  was  going  to  be  a 
stern  chase,  and  laughed  again.  In  order  that 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        159 

he  might  not  show  ostensibly  that  he  was  run- 
ning away,  he  resisted  the  temptation  of  having 
another  peep  through  the  back,  and  resigned 
himself  to  the  chances  of  the  chase. 

Through  and  through  the  lanes  and  byways  of 
the  city  they  drove,  and  after  each  double  the 
answer  from  the  box  was  always  the  same. 
The  cab  behind  could  not  be  shaken  off. 

"  Work  your  way  round  to  Holborn  and  try  a 
run  west,"  Mr.  Bunker  suggested. 

So  after  a  little  they  struck  Newgate  Street, 
and  presently  their  steed  stretched  himself  again 
in  Holborn  Viaduct. 

"Gaining  now,  cabby?" 

"A  little,  sir,  I  think." 

Mr.  Bunker  sat  placidly  till  they  were  well 
along  Holborn  before  he  inquired  again. 

"Can't  get  rid  of  'im  no  'ow.  Afride  it  ain't 
much  good,  sir." 

Mr.  Bunker  passed  up  five  shillings  more. 

"Keep  your  tail  up.  You'll  do  it  yet,"  he  ex- 
horted. "Try  a  turn  north;  you  may  bother 
him  among  the  squares." 

So  they  doubled  north,  and  as  the  evening 
closed  in  their  wearied  horse  was  lashed 


160        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

through  a  maze  of  monotonous  streets  and 
tarnished  Bloomsbury  Squares.  And  still  the 
other  cab  stuck  to  their  trail.  But  when  they 
emerged  on  the  Huston  Road,  Mr.  Bunker  was 
as  cheerful  as  ever. 

"They  can't  last  much  longer,"  he  said  to  his 
driver.  "Turn  up  Regent's  Park  way." 

A  little  later  he  put  the  usual  question  and  got 
the  same  unvarying  answer. 

The  horse  was  evidently  beginning  to  fail,  and 
he  saw  that  this  chariot-race  must  soon  come  to 
an  end.  The  street-lamps  and  the  shop  windows 
were  all  lit  up  by  this  time,  and  the  dusk  was 
pretty  thick.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  might 
venture  to  try  his  luck  on  foot,  and  he  began  to 
look  out  for  an  opening  where  a  cab  could  not 
follow. 

They  were  flogging  along  a  noisy  stone-paved 
road  where  there  was  little  other  traffic;  on  one 
side  stood  an  unbroken  row  of  houses,  and  on 
the  other  were  small  semi-detached  villas  with 
little  strips  of  garden  about  them.  All  at  once 
he  saw  a  doctor's  red  lamp  over  the  door  of 
one  of  these  half  villas,  and  an  inspiration  came 
upon  him. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        161 

"One  can  always  visit  a  doctor,"  he  said  to 
himself,  and  smiled  in  great  amusement  at  some- 
thing in  the  reflection. 

He  stopped  the  cab,  handed  the  man  half  a 
sovereign,  and  saying  only,  "  Drive  away  again, 
quickly,"  jumped  out,  glanced  at  the  name  on 
the  plate  and  pulled  the  bell.  As  he  waited  on 
the  step  he  saw  the  other  cab  stop  a  little  way 
back,  and  his  pursuer  emerge. 

A  frowsy  little  servant  opened  the  door. 

"Is  Dr.  Twiddel  at  home?"  he  asked. 

"Dr.  Twiddel's  abroad,  sir,"  said  the  maid. 

"No  one  in  at  all,  then  ?" 

"Dr.  Billson  sees  'is  patients,  sir, — w'en  there 
his  any." 

"  When  do  you  expect  Dr.  Billson  ?" 

"In  about  an  hour,  sir,  'e  usually  comes  hin." 

"Excellent!"  thought  Mr.  Bunker.  Aloud  he 
said,  "Well,  I'm  a  patient.  I'll  come  in  and 
wait." 

He  stepped  in,  and  the  door  banged  behind 
him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"THIS  w'y,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  and  Mr.  Bunker 
found  himself  in  the  little  room  where  this  story 
opened. 

The  moment  he  was  alone  he  went  to  the 
window  and  peeped  cautiously  between  the 
slats  of  the  Venetian  blind. 

The  street  was  quiet,  both  cabs  had  disap- 
peared, and  for  a  minute  or  two  he  could  see 
nothing  even  of  Moggridge.  Then  a  figure 
moved  carefully  from  the  shelter  of  a  bush  a 
little  way  down  the  railings,  and,  after  a  quick 
look  at  the  house,  stepped  back  again. 

"He  means  to  play  the  waiting  game,"  said 
Mr.  Bunker  to  himself.  "Long  may  you  wait, 
my  wary  Moggridge! " 

He  took  a  rapid  survey  of  the  room.  He  saw 
the  medical  library,  the  rented  furniture,  and  the 
unlit  gas-stove;  and  at  last  his  eye  fell  upon  a 
box  of  cigarettes.  To  one  of  these  he  helped 
himself  and  leaned  his  back  against  the  mantel- 
piece. 

162 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        163 

"There  must  be  at  least  one  room  at  the 
back,"  he  reflected;  "that  room  must  have  a 
window,  and  beyond  that  window  there  is  all 
London  to  turn  to.  Friend  Moggridge,  I  trust 
you  are  prepared  to  spend  the  evening  behind 
your  bush." 

He  had  another  look  through  the  blind  and 
shook  his  head. 

"A  little  too  light  yet,— I'd  better  wait  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so." 

To  while  away  the  time  he  proceeded  to  make 
a  tour  of  the  room,  for,  as  he  said  to  himself, 
when  in  an  unknown  country  any  information 
may  possibly  come  in  useful.  There  was  noth- 
ing whatever  from  which  he  could  draw  even 
the  most  superficial  deduction  till  he  came  to  the 
writing-desk.  Here  a  heap  of  bills  were  trans- 
fixed by  a  long  skewer,  and  at  his  first  glance  at 
the  uppermost  his  face  assumed  an  expression 
of  almost  ludicrous  bewilderment.  He  actually 
rubbed  his  eyes  before  he  looked  a  second  time. 

"One  dozen  shirts,"  he  read,  "four  under- 
flannels,  four  pair  socks,  one  dozen  handker- 
chiefs, two  sleeping-suits — marked  Francis  Beve- 
ridge!  the  account  rendered  to  Dr.  G.  Twiddel! 


164        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

What  in  the  name  of  wonderment  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  ! " 

He  sat  down  with  the  bill  in  his  hand  and 
gazed  hard  at  it. 

"  Precisely  my  outfit,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"Ami — does  it ?    What  a  rum  thing!  " 

He  sat  for  about  ten  minutes  looking  hard  at 
the  floor.  Then  he  burst  out  laughing,  resumed 
in  a  moment  his  air  of  philosophical  opportun- 
ism, and  set  about  a  further  search  of  the  desk. 
He  looked  at  the  bills  and  seemed  to  find  noth- 
ing more  to  interest  him.  Then  he  glanced  at 
one  or  two  letters  in  the  drawers,  threw  the 
first  few  back  again,  and  at  last  paused  over 
one. 

"Twiddel  to  Billson,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  This  may  possibly  be  worth  looking  at." 

It  was  dated  more  than  a  month  back  from  the 
town  of  Fogelschloss. 

"Dear  Tom,"  it  ran,  "we  are  having  an  A  i 
time.  Old  Welsh  is  in  splendid  form,  doing  the 
part  to  perfection.  He  has  never  given  himself 
away  yet,  not  even  when  drunk,  which,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  he  has  been  too  often.  But  then 
old  Welsh  is  so  funny  when  he  is  drunk  that  it 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        165 

makes  him  all  the  more  like  the  original,  or  at 
least  what  the  original  is  supposed  to  be. 

"  Of  course  we  don't  dare  to  venture  into  places 
where  we  would  see  too  many  English.  This  is 
quite  an  amusing  place  for  a  German  town,  some 
baths  and  a  kind  of  gambling-table,  and  some 
pretty  girls — for  Germans.  There  is  a  sporting 
aristocrat  here,  in  an  old  castle,  who  is  very 
friendly,  and  is  much  impressed  with  Welsh's 
account  of  his  family  plate  and  deer-forest,  and 
has  asked  us  once  or  twice  to  come  out  and  see 
him.  We  are  no  end  of  swells,  I  assure  you. 

"  Ta,  ta,  old  chap.  Hope  the  practice  prospers 
in  your  hands.  Don't  kill  all  the  patients  before 
I  come  back. — Ever  thine, 

"GEORGE  TWIDDEL." 

"  From  this  I  conclude  that  Dr.  Twiddel  is  on 
the  festive  side  of  forty,"  he  reflected;  "there 
are  elements  of  mystery  and  a  general  atmos- 
phere of  alcohol  about  it,  but  that's  all,  I'm 
afraid." 

He  put  it  back  in  the  drawer,  but  the  bill  he 
slipped  into  his  pocket. 

"And  now,"  thought  he,  "it  is  time  I  made 
the  first  move." 

After  waiting  for  a  minute  or  two  to  make  sure 


166        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

that  everything  was  quiet,  he  gently  stepped 
out  into  a  little  linoleum-carpeted  hall.  On  the 
right  hand  was  the  front  door,  on  the  left  two 
others  that  must,  he  thought,  open  into  rooms  on 
the  back.  He  chose  the  nearer  at  a  venture,  and 
entered  boldly.  It  was  quite  dark.  He  closed 
the  door  again  softly,  struck  a  match,  and  looked 
around  the  room.  It  seemed  to  be  Dr.  Twiddel's 
dining  and  sitting-room. 

"Pipes,  photographs,  well-sat-in  chairs,"  he 
observed,  "  and  a  window." 

He  pulled  aside  the  blind  and  looked  out  into 
the  darkness  of  a  strip  of  back-garden.  For  a 
minute  he  listened  intently,  but  no  sound  came 
from  the  house.  Then  he  threw  up  the  sash  and 
scrambled  out.  It  was  quite  dark  by  this  time: 
he  was  enclosed  between  two  rows  of  vague, 
black  houses,  with  bright  windows  here  and 
there,  and  chimney-cans  faintly  cutting  their  un- 
couth designs  among  a  few  pale  London  stars. 
The  space  between  was  filled  with  the  two  lines 
of  little  gardens  and  the  ranks  of  walls,  and  in 
the  middle  the  black  chasm  of  a  railway  cutting. 

A  frightened  cat  bolted  before  him  as  he  hur- 
ried down  to  the  foot  of  the  strip,  but  that  was 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        167 

all  the  life  he  saw.  He  looked  over  the  wall 
right  into  the  deep  crevasse.  A  little  way  off,  on 
the  one  hand,  hung  a  cluster  of  signal-lights,  and 
the  shining  rails  reflected  them  all  along  to  the 
mouth  of  a  tunnel  on  the  other.  Turning  his 
head  this  way  and  that,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  anywhere  else  but  garden  wall  after  garden 
wall. 

"It's  a  choice  between  a  hurdle-race  through 
these  gardens,  a  cat-walk  along  this  wall,  and  a 
descent  into  the  cutting,"  he  reflected.  "The 
walls  look  devilish  high  and  the  cutting  devilish 
deep.  Hang  me  if  I  know  which  road  to  take." 

While  he  was  still  debating  this  somewhat  per- 
plexing question,  he  felt  the  ground  begin  to 
quiver  under  him.  Through  the  hum  of  London 
there  gradually  arose  a  louder  roar,  and  in  a  min- 
ute the  head-lights  of  an  engine  flashed  out  of  the 
tunnel.  One  after  another  a  string  of  bright  car- 
riages followed  it,  each  more  slowly  than  the 
carriage  in  front,  till  the  whole  train  was  at  a 
standstill  below  him  with  the  red  signal-lamp 
against  it. 

In  an  instant  his  decision  was  taken.  At  the 
peril  of  life  and  garments  he  scrambled  down  the 


168        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

rocky  bank,  picking  as  he  went  an  empty  first- 
class  compartment,  and  just  as  the  train  began  to 
move  again  he  swung  himself  up  and  sprang 
into  a  carriage. 

Unfortunately  he  had  chosen  the  wrong  one  in 
his  haste,  and  as  he  opened  the  door  he  saw  a 
comical  vision  of  a  stout  little  old  gentleman 
huddling  into  the  farther  corner  in  the  most  dire 
consternation. 

"Who  are  you,  sir?  What  do  you  want, 
sir?"  spluttered  the  old  gentleman.  "If  you 
come  any  nearer  me,  sir — one  step,  sir! — I  shall 
instantly  communicate  with  the  guard!  I  have 
no  money  about  me.  Go  away,  sir!" 

"I  regret  to  learn  that  you  have  no  money," 
replied  Mr.  Bunker,  imperturbably;  "but  I  am 
sorry  that  I  am  not  at  present  in  a  condition  to 
offer  a  loan." 

He  sat  down  and  smiled  amicably,  but  the  lit- 
tle gentleman  was  not  to  be  quieted  so  easily. 
Seeing  that  no  violence  was  apparently  in- 
tended, his  fright  changed  into  respectable  in- 
dignation. 

"You  needn't  try  to  be  funny  with  me,  sir. 
You  are  committing  an  illegal  act.  You  have 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        169 

placed  yourself  in  an  uncommonly  serious  posi- 
tion, sir." 

"Indeed,  sir?"  replied  Mr.  Bunker.  "I  my- 
self should  have  imagined  that  by  remaining  on 
the  rails  I  should  have  been  much  more  seriously 
situated." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  him  like  an  angry 
small  dog  that  longs  to  bite  if  it  only  dared. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  illegal  intru- 
sion ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Who  are  you  ?  Where 
did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"I  had  the  misfortune,  sir,"  explained  Mr. 
Bunker,  politely,  "to  drop  my  hat  out  of  the 
window  of  a  neighboring  carriage.  While  I  was 
picking  it  up  the  train  started,  and  I  had  to  enter 
the  first  compartment  I  could  find.  I  am  sorry 
that  my  entry  frightened  you." 

"Frightened  me!"  spluttered  the  old  gentle- 
man. "  I  am  not  afraid,  sir.  I  am  an  honest  man 
who  need  fear  no  one,  sir.  I  do  not  believe  you 
dropped  your  hat.  It  is  perfectly  uninjured." 

"It  may  be  news  to  you,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Bunker,  "that  by  gently  yet  firmly  passing  the 
sleeve  of  your  coat  round  your  hat  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  nap,  it  is  possible  to  restore  the  gloss. 


170        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Thus,"  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  he  took 
off  his  hat,  drew  his  coat-sleeve  across  it,  and 
with  a  genial  smile  at  the  old  gentleman,  re- 
placed it  on  his  head. 

But  his  neighbor  was  evidently  of  that  trucu- 
lent disposition  which  merely  growls  at  blandish- 
ments. He  snorted  and  replied  testily,  "  That  is 
all  very  well,  sir,  but  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"  If  you  prefer  it,  then,  I  fell  off  the  telegraph 
wires  in  an  attempt  to  recover  my  boots." 

The  old  gentleman  became  purple  in  the  face. 

"Have  a  care,  sir!  I  am  a  director  of  this 
company,  and  at  the  next  station  1  shall  see  that 
you  give  a  proper  account  of  yourself.  And  here 
we  are,  sir.  1  trust  you  have  a  more  credible 
story  in  readiness." 

As  he  spoke  they  drew  up  beside  an  under- 
ground platform,  and  the  irascible  old  gentle- 
man, with  a  very  threatening  face  that  was  not 
yet  quite  cleared  of  alarm,  bustled  out  in  a  prodig- 
ious hurry.  Mr.  Bunker  lay  back  in  his  seat  and 
replied  with  a  smile,  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  tell 
any  story  within  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety." 

But  the  moment  he  saw  the  irate  director  dis- 
appear in  the  crowd  he  whipped  out  too,  and 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        1T1 

with  the  least  possible  delay  transferred  himself 
into  a  third-class  carriage. 

From  his  seat  near  the  window  he  watched  the 
old  gentleman  hurry  back  with  three  officials  at 
his  heels,  and  hastily  search  each  first-class  com- 
partment in  turn.  The  last  one  was  so  near  him 
that  he  could  hear  his  friend  say,  "  Damn  it, 
the  rascal  has  bolted  in  the  crowd!"  And  with 
that  the  four  of  them  rushed  off  to  the  barrier  to 
intercept  or  pursue  this  suspicious  character. 
Then  the  whistle  blew,  and  as  the  train  moved 
off  Mr.  Bunker  remarked  complacently,  if  a  little 
mysteriously,  to  himself,  "  Well,  whoever  I  am, 
it  would  seem  I'm  rather  difficult  to  catch." 


CHAPTER  IX 

MR.  BUNKER  arrived  at  the  Hotel  Mayonaise  in 
what,  from  his  appearance,  was  an  unusually  re- 
flective state  of  mind  for  him.  The  other 
visitors,  many  of  whom  had  begun  to  regard  him 
and  his  noble  friend  with  great  interest,  saw  him 
pass  through  the  crowd  in  the  hall  and  about 
the  lifts  with  a  thoughtful  air.  He  went  straight 
to  the  Baron's  room.  Outside  the  door  he 
paused  for  an  instant  to  set  his  face  in  a  cheerful 
smile,  and  then  burst  gaily  in  upon  his  friend. 

"Well,  my  dear  Baron!"  he  cried,  "what 
luck  in  the  Park  ?  " 

The  Baron  was  pulling  his  moustache  over  an 
English  novel.  He  laid  down  his  book  and 
frowned  at  Mr.  Bunker. 

"  I  do  not  onderstand  your  English  vays,"  he 
replied. 

Mr.  Bunker  perceived  that  something  was  very 
much  amiss,  nor  was  he  without  a  suspicion  of 
the  cause.     He  laughed,    however,  and   asked, 
"What's  the  matter,  old  man  ?" 
172 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE       1T3 

"I  vent  to  ze  Park,"  said  the  Baron,  with  a 
solemn  deliberation  that  evidently  came  hardly  to 
him.  "  I  entered  ze  Park.  I  vas  dressed,  as  you 
know,  viz  taste  and.appropriety.  I  vas  sober,  as 
you  know.  I  valked  under  ze  trees,  and  I  looked 
agreeably  at  ze  people.  Goddam ! " 

"My  dear  Baron!"  expostulated  Mr.  Bunker. 

The  Baron  resumed  his  intense  composure  with 
a  great  effort. 

"Not  long  vas  ven  I  see  ze  Lady  Hilton 
drive  past  mit  ze  ozzer  Lady  Hilton  and  vun 
old  lady.  I  raise  my  hat — no  bow  from  zem. 
'Pairhaps,'  I  zink,  '  zey  see  me  not.'  Zey  stop 
by  ze  side  to  speak  viz  a  gentleman.  I  gomed 
up  and  again  1  raised  my  hat  and  I  say,  '  How 
do  you  do,  Lady  Hilton  ?  I  hope  you  are  regov- 
ered  from  ze  dance.'  Zat  was  gorrect,  vas  it 
not?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  with  great 
gravity. 

"Zen  vy  did  ze  Lady  Hilton  schream  and  ze 
ozzer  Lady  Hilton  cry,  '  Ach,  zat  German  man  ! ' 
And  vy  did  ze  old  lady  schream  to  ze  gentleman, 
'Send  him  avay!  How  dare  you  ?  Insolence  I' 
and  suchlike  vords  ?" 


174        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"What  remarkable  conduct,  my  dear  Baron!" 
said  Mr.  Bunker. 

"  Remargable!"  roared  the  justly  incensed 
Baron.  "  Is  it  not  more  zan  remar gable  ?  Don- 
ner  und  blitzen!  Mon  Dieu!  Blood!  I  know 
not  ze  English  vord  so  bad  enoff  for  soch  con- 
duct." 

"It  must  have  been  a  joke,"  his  friend  sug- 
gested, soothingly. 

"Vun  dashed  bad  joke,  zen!  Ze  gentleman 
said  to  me,  '  Get  out  of  zis,  you  rasgal ! '  '  Vat 
mean  you,  sare?'  say  I.  'You  know  quite 
veil/  said  he.  'Clear  out!'  So  I  gave  him  my 
card  and  tell  him  I  would  be  glad  to  see  his  frient 
zat  he  should  send,  for  zat  I  vas  not  used  to  be 
called  zo.  Zen  I  raise  my  hat  to  ze  Lady  Hilton 
and  say,  '  Adieu,  madame,  I  know  now  ze  Eng- 
lish lady,' and  I  valk  on.  Himmel!" 

"What  a  very  extraordinary  affair,  Baron  !" 

The  Baron  grunted  with  inarticulate  indigna- 
tion and  nearly  pulled  his  moustache  out  by  the 
roots.  Abruptly  he  broke  out  again,  "English 
ladies?  I  do  not  believe  zey  are  ladies!  Never 
haf  I  been  treated  zo!  Vat  do  you  mean,  Bon- 
ker,  by  taking  me  among  soch  peoples  ?  " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"I,  my  dear  Baron?  It  was  not  I  who  intro- 
duced you  to  the  Hiltons.  I  never  saw  them  be- 
fore." 

The  difficulty  of  attaching  any  blame  to  his 
friend  seemed  to  have  anything  but  a  soothing 
effect  on  the  Baron.  You  could  almost  fancy 
that  you  heard  his  tail  lash  the  floor. 

"Zat  vas  not  all,"  he  continued,  after  a  short 
struggle  with  his  wrath.  "  I  valked  on,  and 
soon  I  see  two  of  ze  friends  I  made  last  night  at 
supper." 

"Which  two?" 

"  Ze  yong  man  zat  spoke  to  you  ven  you  rise 
from  ze  table,  and  vun  of  ze  ladies.  Again  I 
raise  my  hat  and  say,  '  How  do  you  do  ?  I  hope 
zat  you  are  regovered  from  ze  dance.'  Zat  is 
gorrect,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Under  most  circumstances." 

"  Ze  man  stared  at  me,  and  ze  voman — I  vill 
not  say  lady— says  to  him  zo  zat  I  can  hear,  '  Zat 
awful  German!'  Ze  man  says,  'Zo  it  is,'  and 
laughed.  '  I  haf  ze  pleasure  of  meeting  you  last 
night  at  ze  Lady  Tolly voddle,'  I  said.  '  I  remem- 
ber,'he  said;  'but  I  haf  no  vish  to  meet  you 
again.'  I  take  out  my  card  to  gif  him,  but  he 


176        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

only  said,  'Go  avay,  or  I  vill  call  ze  police!' 
'  Ze  police!'  To  me,  Baron  von  Blitzenberg! 
'Teufel! '  I  replied. 

"  And  that  was  all,  Baron  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bunker, 
in  what  seemed  rather  like  a  tone  of  relief. 

"  No;  suddenly  he  did  turn  back  and  said,  '  By 
ze  vay,  who  vas  zat  viz  you  last  night  ? '  To 
vich  I  replied,  'If  you  address  me  again,  my  man, 
I  vill  call  ze  police.  Go  avay! ' ' 

"Bravo,  Baron!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Excellent!" 
laughed  Mr.  Bunker. 

This  applause  served  to  reinstate  the  Baron  a 
little  in  his  own  good  opinion.  He  laughed  too, 
though  rather  noisily  than  heartily,  and  suddenly 
became  grave  again. 

"Vat  means  zis,  Bonker  ?  Vat  haf  I  done? 
Vy  should  zey  treat  me  zo  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  my  dear  Baron,"  his  friend 
explained,  "  I  ought  to  have  warned  you  that  it 
is  not  usual  in  England  to  address  ladies  you  have 
met  at  a  dance  without  some  direct  invitation  on 
their  part.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  evident  that 
the  Hiltons  and  the  other  man,  who  of  course 
must  be  connected  with  the  Foreign  Office,  are 
aware  of  some  sudden  strain  in  the  diplomatic  re- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        177 

lations  between  England  and  Germany,  which  as 
yet  is  unknown  to  the  public.  Your  ancient 
name  and  your  high  rank  have  naturally  led  them 
to  conclude  that  you  are  an  agent  of  the  German 
Government,  and  an  international  significance 
was  of  course  attached  to  your  presence  in  the 
Park.  I  certainly  think  they  took  a  most  out- 
rageous advantage  of  a  trifling  detail  of  etiquette 
to  repulse  you;  but  then  you  must  remember, 
Baron,  that  their  families  might  have  been 
seriously  compromised  with  the  Government  if 
they  had  been  seen  with  so  prominent  a  member 
of  the  German  aristocracy  in  the  middle  of  Hyde 
Park." 

"  Zo  ?"  said  the  Baron,  thoughtfully.  "  I  be- 
gin to  onderstand.  My  name,  as  you  say,  is  cair- 
tainly  distinguished.  Bot  zen  should  I  remain  in 
London  ?" 

"Just  what  1  was  wondering,  Baron.  What 
do  you  say  to  a  trip  down  to  St.  Egbert's-on-Sea  ? 
It's  a  very  select  watering  place,  and  we  might 
spend  a  week  or  two  there  very  pleasantly." 

"Egxellent!"  said  the  Baron;  "  ven  shall  ve 
start  ?  " 

"To-morrow  morning." 


178        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  Goot!  zo  let  it  be.  I  am  tired  of  London  and 
of  ze  English  ladies'  manners.  Police  to  ze  Baron 
von  Blitzenberg!  Ve  shall  go  to  St.  Egbert's, 
Bonker! " 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Baron  and  Mr.  Bunker  walked  arm-in-arm 
along  the  esplanade  at  St.  Egbert's-on-Sea. 

"Aha!  "  said  the  Baron,  "zis  is  more  fresh zan 
London! " 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  friend;  "  we  are  now  in  the 
presence  of  that  stimulating  element  which  pro- 
vides patriotic  Britons  with  music  hall  songs,  and 
dyspeptic  Britons  with  an  appetite." 

A  stirring  breeze  swept  down  the  long  white 
esplanade,  threatening  hats  and  troubling  skirts; 
the  pale-green  south  coast  sea  rumbled  up  the 
shingle;  the  day  was  bright  and  pleasant  for  the 
time  of  year,  and  drove  the  Baron's  mischances 
from  his  head ;  altogether  it  seemed  to  Mr.  Bunker 
that  the  omens  were  good.  They  were  both 
dressed  in  the  smartest  of  tweed  suits,  and 

walked  jauntily,  like  men  who  knew  their  own 
179 


180        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

value.  Every  now  and  then,  as  they  passed  a 
pretty  face,  the  Baron  would  say,  "  Aha,  Bonker! 
zat  is  not  so  bad,  eh  ?" 

And  Mr.  Bunker,  who  seemed  not  unwilling 
that  his  friend  should  find  some  entertaining  dis- 
traction in  St.  Egbert's,  would  look  at  the  owners 
of  these  faces  with  a  prospector's  eye  and  his 
own  unrivaled  assurance. 

They  had  walked  up  and  down  three  or  four 
times,  when  a  desire  for  a  different  species  of 
diversion  began  to  overtake  the  Baron.  It  was 
the  one  kind  of  desire  that  the  Baron  never  even 
tried  to  wrestle  with. 

"My  vriend  Bonker,"  said  he,  "is it  notsome- 
vere  about  time  for  loncheon,  eh  ?  " 

"I  should  say  it  was  precisely  the  hour." 

"  Ha,  ha!  zen,  let  us  gom  and  eat.  Himmel, 
zis  sea  is  ze  fellow  to  make  von  hungry!  " 

The  Baron  had  taken  a  private  suite  of  rooms 
on  the  first  floor  of  the  best  hotel  in  St.  Egbert's, 
and  after  a  very  substantial  lunch  Mr.  Bunker 
stretched  himself  on  the  luxurious  sitting-room 
sofa  and  announced  his  intention  of  having  a  nap. 

"I  shall  go  out,"  said  the  Baron.  "  You  vill 
not  gom  ?  " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        181 

"I  shall  leave  you  to  make  a  single-handed 
conquest,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker.  "  Besides,  I  have 
a  little  matter  I  want  to  look  into." 

So  the  Baron  arranged  his  hat  airily,  at  what 
he  had  perceived  to  be  the  most  fashionable  and 
effective  English  angle,  and  strutted  off  to  the 
esplanade. 

It  was  about  two  hours  later  that  he  burst  ex- 
citedly into  the  room,  crying,  "Aha,  mine 
Bonker!  I  haf  disgovered  zomzing!"  and  then 
he  stopped  in  some  surprise.  "  Ello,  vat  make 
you,  my  vriend  ? '' 

His  friend,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  somewhat 
singularly  employed.  Through  a  dense  cloud  of 
tobacco-smoke  you  could  just  pick  him  out  of 
the  depths  of  an  armchair,  his  feet  resting  on  the 
mantelpiece,  while  his  lap  and  all  the  floor  round 
about  were  covered  with  immense  books.  The 
Baron's  curiosity  was  still  further  excited  by 
observing  that  they  consisted  principally  of  a 
London  and  a  St.  Egbert's  directory,  several  vol- 
umes of  a  Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  and 
one  or  two  peerages  and  county  family  com- 
pilations. 

He  looked  up  with  a  smile.     "  You  may  well 


182        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

wonder,  my  dear  Baron.  The  fact  is,  I  am  look- 
ing for  a  name." 

"A  name!  vat  name?" 

"Alas!  if  I  knew  what  it  was  I  should  stop 
looking,  and  I  confess  I'm  rather  sick  of  the 
job." 

"  Vich  vay  do  you  look,  zen  ?" 

"  Simply  by  wading  my  way  through  all  the 
lists  of  names  I  could  steal  or  borrow.  It's  devilish 
dry  work." 

"Ze  name  of  a  vriend,  is  it?" 

"  Yes;  but  I'm  afraid  I  must  wait  till  it  comes. 
And  what  is  this  discovery,  Baron  ?  A  petticoat, 
I  presume.  After  all,  they  are  the  only  things 
worth  finding,"  and  he  shut  the  books  one  after 
another. 

"A  petticoat,  with  ze  fairest  girl  inside  it!" 
exclaimed  the  Baron,  rapturously. 

"  Your  eyes  seem  to  have  been  singularly 
penetrating,  Baron.  Was  she  dark  or  fair,  tall 
or  short,  fat  or  slender,  widow,  wife,  or  maid  ?" 

"Fair,  viz  blue  eyes,  short  pairhaps  but  not 
too  short,  slender  as  a — a — drom-stick,  and  I 
vould  say  a  maid;  at  least  I  see  vun  stout  old 
lady  mit  her,  mozzer  and  daughter  I  soppose," 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        183 

"  And  did  this  piece  of  perfection  seem  to  ap- 
preciate you  ?  " 

"  Vy  should  I  know  ?  Zey  are  ze  real  ladies 
and  pairtend  not  to  see  me,  bot  I  zink  zey  notice 
me  all  ze  same.  Not  'lady  vriends,'  Bonker,  ha, 
ha,  ha!" 

Mr.  Bunker  laughed  with  reminiscent  amuse- 
ment, and  inquired,  "  And  how  did  the  romance 
end — in  a  cab,  Baron  ?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  "  laughed  the  Baron;  "better  zan 
zat,  Bonker — moch  better! " 

Mr.  Bunker  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"It's  hardly  the  time  of  year  for  a  romance  to 
end  in  a  bathing-machine.  You  followed  the 
divinity  to  her  rented  heaven,  perhaps  ?  " 

The  Baron  bent  forward  and  answered  in  a 
stage  whisper,  "Zey  live  in  zis  hotel,  Bonker!" 

"Then  I  can  only  wish  you  joy,  Baron,  and  if 
my  funds  allow  me,  send  her  a  wedding  pres- 
ent." 

"  Ach,  not  quite  so  fast,  my  vriend!  I  am  not 
caught  so  easy." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  a  week  at  close  quarters  is 
sufficient  to  net  any  man." 

"Yen  I  marry,"  replied  the  Baron,    "moch 


184        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

most  be  considered.  A  von  Blitzenberg  does  not 
mate  viz  every  vun." 

"A  good  many  families  have  made  the  same 
remark,  but  one  does  not  always  meet  the 
fathers-in-law." 

"Ha,  ha!  ve  shall  see.  Bot,  Bonker,  she  is 
lofly!" 

The  Baron  awaited  dinner  with  even  more  than 
his  usual  ardor.  He  dressed  with  the  greatest 
care,  and  at  an  absurdly  early  hour  was  already 
urging  his  friend  to  come  down  and  take  their 
places.  Indeed  after  a  time  there  was  no  with- 
holding him,  and  they  finally  took  their  seats  in 
the  dining-room  before  anybody  else. 

At  what  seemed  to  the  impatient  Baron  uncon- 
scionably long  intervals  a  few  people  dropped  in 
and  began  to  study  their  menus  and  glance  with 
an  air  of  uncomfortable  suspicion  at  their  neigh- 
bors. 

"  I  vonder  vill  she  gom,"  he  said  three  or  four 
times  at  least. 

"Console  yourself,  my  dear  Baron,"  his  friend 
would  reply;  "they  always  come.  That's  sel- 
dom the  difficulty." 

And  the  Baron  would  dally  with  his  victuals  in 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        185 

the  most  unwonted  fashion,  and  growl  at  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  courses  followed  one 
another. 

"Do  zey  suppose  ve  vish  to  eat  like ?"  he 

began,  and  then  laying  his  hand  on  his  friend's 
sleeve,  he  whispered,  "  She  goms!  " 

Mr.  Bunker  turned  his  head  just  in  time  to  see 
in  the  doorway  the  Countess  of  Grillyer  and  the 
Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre. 

"Is  she  not  fair?"  asked  the  Baron,  excitedly. 

"I  entirely  approve  of  your  taste,  Baron.  I 
have  only  once  seen  any  one  quite  like  her  be- 
fore." 

With  a  gratified  smile  the  Baron  filled  his  glass, 
while  his  friend  seemed  amused  by  some  humor- 
ous reflection  of  his  own. 

The  Lady  Alicia  and  her  mother  had  taken 
their  seats  at  a  table  a  little  way  off,  and  at  first 
their  eyes  never  happened  to  turn  in  the  direction 
of  the  two  friends.  But  at  last,  after  looking  at 
the  ceiling,  the  carpet,  the  walls,  the  other  peo- 
ple, everything  else  in  the  room  it  seemed,  Lady 
Alicia's  glance  fell  for  an  instant  on  the  Baron. 
That  nobleman  looked  as  interesting  as  a  mouth- 
ful of  roast  duck  would  permit  him,  but  the 


186        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE 

glance  passed  serenely  on  to  Mr.  Bunker.  For  a 
moment  it  remained  serene;  suddenly  it  became 
startled  and  puzzled,  and  at  that  instant  Mr. 
Bunker  turned  his  own  eyes  full  upon  her, 
smiled  slightly,  and  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips. 

The  glance  fell,  and  the  Lady  Alicia  blushed 
down  to  the  diamonds  in  her  necklace. 

The  Baron  insisted  on  lingering  over  his  dinner 
till  the  charmer  was  finished,  and  so  by  a  fortui- 
tous coincidence  they  left  the  room  immediately 
behind  the  Countess.  The  Baron  passed  them  in 
the  passage,  and  a  few  yards  farther  he  looked 
round  for  his  friend,  and  the  Countess  turned  to 
look  for  her  daughter. 

They  saw  Lady  Alicia  following  with  an  in- 
tensely unconscious  expression,  while  Mr. 
Bunker  was  in  the  act  of  returning  to  the  dining- 
room. 

"  I  wanted  to  secure  a  table  for  breakfast,"  he 
explained. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  Baron  was  in  high  hopes  of  seeing  the 
fair  unknown  at  breakfast,  but  it  seemed  she 
must  be  either  breakfasting  in  her  own  room  or 
lying  long  abed. 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  out  for  a  little  constitu- 
tional," said  Mr.  Bunker,  when  he  had  finished. 
"I  suppose  the  hotel  has  a  stronger  attraction 
for  you." 

"  Ach,  yes,  I  shall  remain,"  his  friend  replied. 
"Pairhaps  I  may  see  zem." 

"  Take  care  then,  Baron!" 

"I  shall  not  propose  till  you  return,  Bonker!" 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Bunker  to  himself,  "I  don't 
think  you  will." 

Just  outside  St.  Egbert's  there  is  a  high  breezy 
sweep  of  downs,  falling  suddenly  to  a  chalky 
seaward  cliff.  It  overlooks  the  town  and  the 
undulating  inland  country  and  a  great  spread  of 
shining  sea;  and  even  without  a  spy-glass  you 
can  see  sail  after  sail  and  smoke-wreath  after 

smoke-wreath  go  by  all  day  long. 
187 


188        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

But  Mr.  Bunker  had  apparently  walked  there 
for  other  reasons  than  to  see  the  view.  He  did 
stop  once  or  twice,  but  it  was  only  to  scan  the 
downs  ahead,  and  at  the  sight  of  a  fluttering 
skirt  he  showed  no  interest  in  anything  else, 
but  made  a  straight  line  for  its  owner.  For  her 
part,  the  lady  seemed  to  await  his  coming.  She 
gathered  her  countenance  into  an  expression  of 
as  perfect  unconcern  as  a  little  heightening  of  her 
color  would  allow  her,  and  returned  his  salute 
with  rather  a  distant  bow.  But  Mr.  Bunker  was 
not  to  be  damped  by  this  hint  of  barbed  wire. 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  exclaimed  cordially, 
"My  dear  Lady  Alicia!  this  is  charming  of 
you!" 

"Of  course  you  understand,  Mr.  Beveridge, 
it's  only " 

"Perfectly,"  he  interrupted,  gaily;  "I  under- 
stand everything  I  should  and  nothing  I  shouldn't. 
In  fact,  I  have  altered  little,  except  in  the  trifling 
matter  of  a  beard,  a  moustache  or  two,  and,  by 
the  way,  a  name." 

"A  name?" 

"  I  am  now  Francis  Bunker,  but  as  much  at 
your  service  as  ever." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        189 

"But  why — I  mean,  have  you  really  changed 
your  name?" 

"Circumstances  have  changed  it,  just  as  cir- 
cumstances shaved  me." 

Lady  Alicia  made  a  great  endeavor  to  look 
haughty.  "  1  do  not  quite  understand,  Mr. " 

"Bunker — a  temporary  title,  but  suggestive, 
and  simple  for  the  tradesmen." 

"I  do  not  understand  your  conduct.  Why 
have  you  changed  your  name  ?" 

"Why  not?" 

This  retort  was  so  evidently  unanswerable  that 
Lady  Alicia  changed  her  inquiry. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"Till  yesterday,  in  London." 

"Then  you  didn't  go  to  your  own  parish?" 
she  demanded,  reproachfully. 

"There  were  difficulties,"  he  replied;  "in 
fact,  a  certified  lunatic  is  not  in  great  demand  as 
a  parish  priest.  They  seem  to  prefer  them  un- 
certified." 

"  But  didn't  you  try  ?" 

"Hard,  but  it  was  no  use.  The  bishop  was 
out  of  town,  and  I  had  to  wait  till  his  return; 
besides,  my  position  was  somewhat  insecure.  1 


190        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

have  had  at  least  two  remarkable  escapes  since  I 
saw  you  last." 

"Are  you  safe  here?"  she  asked,  hurriedly. 

"  With  your  consent,  yes." 

She  looked  a  little  troubled.  "I  don't  know 
that  I  am  doing  right,  Mr.  Bev — Bunker, 
but " 

"Thank  you,  my  friend,"  he  interrupted, 
tenderly. 

"Don't,"  she  began  hastily.  "You  mustn't 
talk  like " 

"Francis  Beveridge  ? "  he  interrupted.  "The 
trouble  is,  this  rascal  Bunker  bears  an  uncon- 
scionably awkward  resemblance  to  our  old 
friend." 

"  You  must  see  that  it  is  quite — ridiculous." 

"Absurd,"  he  agreed, — "perfectly  preposter- 
ous. I  laugh  whenever  I  think  of  it! " 

Poor  Lady  Alicia  felt  like  a  man  at  a  telephone 
who  has  been  connected  with  the  wrong  person. 
Again  she  made  a  desperate  shift  to  fall  back  on 
a  becoming  pride. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded. 

"If  I  mean  anything  at  all,  which  is  always 
rather  doubtful,"  he  replied,  candidly,  "I  mean 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        191 

that  Beveridge  and  his  humbug  were  creatures 
of  an  occasion,  just  as  Bunker  and  his  are  of 
another.  The  one  occasion  is  passed,  and  with 
it  the  first  entertaining  gentleman  has  vanished 
into  space.  The  second  gentleman  will  doubt- 
less follow  when  his  time  is  up.  In  fact,  I  may 
be  said  to  be  a  series _of  dissolving  views." 

"  Then  isn't  what  you  said  true  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  you  must  be  more  specific;  you 
see  I've  talked  so  much." 

"What  you  said  about  yourself — and  your 
work." 

He  shook  his  head  humorously.  "  I  have  no 
means  of  checking  my  statements." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  troubled  way,  and  then 
her  eyes  fell. 

"At  least,"  she  said,  "you  won't — you 
mustn't  treat  me  as — as  you  did." 

"  As  Beveridge  did  ?  Certainly  not;  Bunker  is 
the  soul  of  circumspection.  Besides,  he  doesn't 
require  to  get  out  of  an  asylum." 

"Then  it  was  only  to  get  a  way?  "she  cried, 
turning  scarlet. 

"Let  us  call  it  so,"  he  replied,  looking  pen- 
sively out  to  sea. 


192        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

It  seemed  wiser  to  Lady  Alicia  to  change  the 
subject. 

"Who  is  the  friend  you  are  staying  with?" 
she  asked,  suddenly. 

"My  old  friend  the  Baron  Rudolph  von 
Blitzenberg,  and  your  own  most  recent  admirer," 
he  replied.  "1  am  at  present  living  with,  in  fact 
I  may  say  upon,  him." 

"Does  he  know?" 

"If  you  meet  him,  you  had  perhaps  better  not 
inquire  into  my  past  history." 

"I  meant,  does  he  know  about — about  your 
knowing  me  ?  " 

"Bless  them!"  thought  Mr.  Bunker;  "one 
forgets  they're  not  always  thinking  about  us!  " 

"  My  noble  friend  has  no  idea  that  I  have  been 
so  fortunate,"  he  replied. 

Lady  Alicia  looked  relieved.  "Who  is  he?" 
she  asked. 

"A  German  nobleman  of  great  wealth,  long 
descent,  and  the  most  accommodating  disposi- 
tion. He  is  at  present  exploring  England  under 
my  guidance,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  he  has 
already  seen  and  done  a  number  of  things  that 
are  not  on  most  programmes." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        193 

Lady  Alicia  was  silent  for  a  minute.  Then 
she  said  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  Didn't  you  get 
a  letter  from  me  ?" 

"  A  letter?    No,"  he  replied,  in  some  surprise. 

"I  wrote  twice — because  you  asked  me  to, 
and  I  thought — I  wondered  if  you  were  safe." 

"  To  what  address  did  you  write  ?  " 

"The  address  you  gave  me." 

"And  what  was  that?"  he  asked,  still  evi- 
dently puzzled. 

"You  said  care  of  the  Archbishop  of  York 
would  find  you." 

Mr.  Bunker  abruptly  looked  the  other  way. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said,  as  if  lost  in  speculation, 
"I  must  find  out  what  the  matter  was.  I  can't 
imagine  why  they  haven't  been  forwarded." 

Lady  Alicia  appeared  a  little  dissatisfied. 

"  Was  that  a  real  address  ?"  she  asked,  sud- 
denly. 

"Perfectly,"  he  replied;  "as  real  as  Penton- 
ville  Jail  or  the  House  of  Commons."  ("  And 
as  likely  to  find  me,"  he  added  to  himself.) 

Lady  Alicia  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  to 
pursue  the  subject  further,  but  in  the  middle  of 
her  debate  Mr.  Bunker  asked,  "By  the  way,  has 


194        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Lady  Grillyer  any  recollection  of  having  seen  me 
before  ?  " 

"  No,  she  doesn't  remember  you  at  all." 

"  Then  we  shall  meet  as  strangers  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would  be  better;  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  It  will  save  our  imaginations  certainly." 

Lady  Alicia  looked  at  him  as  though  she  ex- 
pected something  more;  but  as  nothing  came, 
she  said,  "  I  think  it's  time  I  went  back." 

"  For  the  present  then  au  revoir,  my  dear 
Alicia.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Lady  Alicia;  it  was 
that  rascal  Beveridge  who  made  the  slip.  It 
now  remains  to  make  your  formal  acquaintance." 

"  You — you  mustn't  try !  " 

"The  deuce  is  in  these  people  beginning  with 
B!"  he  laughed.  "They  seem  to  do  things 
without  trying." 

He  pressed  her  hand,  raised  his  hat,  and 
started  back  to  the  town.  She,  on  her  part, 
lingered  to  let  him  get  a  clear  start  of  her,  and 
her  blue  eyes  looked  as  though  a  breeze  had 
blown  across  and  ruffled  them. 

Mr.  Bunker  had  reached  the  esplanade,  and 
was  sauntering  easily  back  towards  the  hotel, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        195 

looking  at  the  people,  and  smiling  now  and  then 
to  himself,  when  he  observed  with  considerable 
astonishment  two  familiar  figures  strolling  to- 
wards him.  They  were  none  other  than  the 
Baron  and  the  Countess,  engaged  in  animated 
conversation,  and  apparently  on  the  very  best 
terms  with  each  other.  At  the  sight  of  him  the 
Baron  beamed  joyfully. 

"  Aha,  Bonker,  so  you  haf  returned! "  he  cried. 
"In  ze  meanvile  I  haf  had  vun  great  good  for- 
tune. Let  me  present  my  friend  Mr.  Bonker,  ze 
Lady  Grillyer." 

The  Countess  bowed  most  graciously,  and 
raising  a  pair  of  tortoise-shell-rimmed  eye-glasses 
mounted  on  a  stem  of  the  same  material,  looked 
at  Mr.  Bunker  through  these  with  a  by  no  means 
disapproving  glance. 

At  first  sight  it  was  evident  that  Lady  Alicia 
must  "take  after"  her  noble  father.  The  Coun- 
tess was  aquiline  of  nose,  large  of  person,  and 
emphatic  in  her  voice  and  manner. 

"You  are  the  'showman,'  Mr.  Bunker,  are  you 
not  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  smile  for  which  many  of 
her  acquaintances  would  have  given  a  tolerable 
percentage  of  their  incomes. 


"It  seems,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  smiling  back 
agreeably,  "that  the  Baron  is  now  the  show- 
man, and  1  must  congratulate  him  on  his  first 
venture." 

For  an  instant  the  Countess  seemed  a  trifle 
taken  aback.  It  was  a  considerable  number  of 
years  since  she  had  been  addressed  in  precisely 
this  strain,  and  in  fact  at  no  time  had  her  ad- 
mirers ventured  quite  so  dashingly  to  the  attack. 
But  there  was  something  entirely  irresistible  in 
Mr.  Bunker's  manner,  partly  perhaps  because  he 
never  made  the  mistake  of  heeding  a  first  rebuff. 
The  Countess  coughed,  then  smiled  a  little  again, 
and  said  to  the  Baron,  "  You  didn't  tell  me  that 
your  showman  supplied  the  little  speeches  as 
well." 

"  I  could  not  know  it;  zere  has  not  before  been 
ze  reason  for  a  pretty  speech,"  responded  the 
Baron,  gallantly. 

If  Lady  Grillyer  had  been  anybody  else,  one 
would  have  said  that  she  actually  giggled.  Cer- 
tainly a  little  wave  of  scandalized  satisfaction 
rippled  all  over  her. 

"  Oh,  really!  "  she  cried,  "I  don't  know  which 
of  you  is  the  worst  offender." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        197 

All  this  time,  as  may  be  imagined,  Mr.  Bunker 
had  been  in  a  state  of  high  mystification  at  his 
friend's  unusal  adroitness. 

"  How  the  deuce  did  he  get  hold  of  her  ?  "  he 
said  to  himself. 

In  the  next  pause  the  Baron  solved  the  riddle. 

"You  vil  vunder,  Bonker,"  he  said,  "how  I 
did  gom  to  know  ze  Lady  Grillyer." 

"I  envied,  certainly,"  replied  his  friend,  with  a 
side  glance  at  the  now  purring  Countess. 

"She  vas  of  my  introdogtions,  bot  till  after 
you  vent  out  zis  morning  I  did  not  lairn  her 
name.  Zen  I  said  to  myself,  '  Ze  sun  shines, 
Himmel  is  kind!  Here  now  is  ze  fair  Lady  Grill- 
yer— my  introdogtion!'  and  zo  zat  is  how,  you 
see." 

"To  think  of  the  Baron  being  here  and  our 
only  finding  each  other  out  by  chance!"  said  the 
Countess. 

"By  a  fortunate  providence  for  me!"  ex- 
claimed the  Baron,  fervently. 

"Baron,"  said  the  Countess,  trying  hard  to 
look  severe,  "you  must  really  keep  some  of 
these  nice  speeches  for  my  daughter.  Which 
reminds  me,  I  wonder  where  she  can  be  ?" 


198        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  Ach,  here  she  goms!  "  cried  the  Baron. 

"Why,  how  did  you  know  her?"  asked  the 
Countess. 

"I — I  did  see  her  last  night  at  dinnair,"  ex- 
plained the  Baron,  turning  red. 

"Ah,  of  course,  I  remember,"  replied  the 
Countess,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone;  but  her 
motherly  eye  was  sharp,  and  already  it  began  to 
look  on  the  highly  eligible  Rudolph  with  more 
approval  than  ever. 

"My  daughter  Alicia,  the  Baron  Rudolph  von 
Blitzenberg,  Mr.  Bunker,"  she  said  the  next 
moment. 

The  Baron  went  nearly  double  as  he  bowed, 
and  the  flourish  of  his  hat  stirred  the  dust  on  the 
esplanade.  Mr.  Bunker's  salutation  was  less  pro- 
found, but  his  face  expressed  an  almost  equal 
degree  of  interested  respect.  Her  mother  thought 
that  when  one  of  the  gentlemen  was  a  nobleman 
with  an  indefinite  number  of  thousands  a-year 
and  the  other  a  person  of  so  much  discrimination, 
Lady  Alicia's  own  bow  might  have  been  a  trifle 
less  reserved.  But  then  even  the  most  astute 
mother  cannot  know  the  reasons  for  everything. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  ALICIA,"  said  the  Countess,  "it  was  really  a 
most  fortunate  coincidence  our  meeting  the  Baron 
at  St.  Egbert's." 

She  paused  for  a  reply  and  looked  expectantly 
at  her  daughter.  It  was  not  the  first  time  in  the 
course  of  the  morning  that  Lady  Alicia  had  lis- 
tened to  similar  observations,  and  perhaps  that 
was  why  she  answered  somewhat  listlessly, 
"Yes,  wasn't  it?" 

The  Countess  frowned,  and  continued  with 
emphasis,  "  I  consider  him  one  of  the  most  agree- 
able and  best  informed  young  men  I  have  ever 
met." 

"  Is  he  ?"  said  Lady  Alicia,  absently. 

"I  wonder,  Alicia,  you  hadn't  noticed  it,"  her 
mother  observed,  severely;  "you  talked  with 
him  most  of  the  afternoon.  I  should  have  thought 
that  no  observant,  well-bred  girl  would  have 
failed  to  have  been  struck  with  his  air  and  con- 
versation." 

"I— I  thought  him  very  pleasant,  mamma." 
199 


200        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"I  am  glad  you  had  so  much  sense.  He  is 
extremely  pleasant." 

As  Lady  Alicia  made  no  reply,  the  Countess 
felt  obliged  to  continue  his  list  of  virtues  herself. 

"He  is  of  most  excellent  family,  Alicia,  one  of 
the  oldest  in  Bavaria.  I  don't  remember  what  I 
heard  his  income  was  in  pfennigs,  or  whatever 
they  measure  money  by  in  Germany,  but  I  know 
that  it  is  more  than  ,£20,000  a  year  in  English 
money.  A  very  large  sum  nowadays, "  she  added, 
as  if  ,£20,000  had  grown  since  she  was  a  girl. 

"Yes,  mamma." 

"  He  is  considered,  besides,  an  unusually  prom- 
ising and  intelligent  young  nobleman,  and  in 
Germany,  where  noblemen  are  still  constantly 
used,  that  says  a  great  deal  for  him." 

"  Does  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"Certainly  it  does.  Education  there  is  so 
severe  that  young  Englishmen  are  beginning  to 
know  less  than  they  ever  did,  and  in  most  cases 
that  isn't  saying  much.  Compare  the  Baron  with 
the  young  men  you  meet  here! " 

She  looked  at  her  daughter  triumphantly,  and 
Alicia  could  only  reply,  "Yes,  mamma  ?" 

"  Compare  them  and  see  the  difference.     Look 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        201 

at  the  Baron's  friend,  Mr.  Bunker,  who  is  a  very 
agreeable  and  amusing  man  I  admit,  but  look  at 
the  difference! " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Alicia  could  not  help  asking. 

"  What  is  it,  Alicia!  It  is — ah — it's — er — it  is,  in 
short,  the  effect  of  a  carefully  cultivated  mind  and 
good  blood." 

"  But  don't  you  think  Mr.  Bunker  cultivated, 
mamma — and — and — well-bred  ?" 

"  He  has  an  amusing  way  of  saying  things, — 
but  then  you  must  remember  that  the  Baron  is 
doubtless  equally  entertaining  in  his  native  lan- 
guage,— and  possibly  a  superficial  knowledge  of 
a  few  of  the  leading  questions  of  the  day ;  but 
the  Baron  talked  to  me  for  half  an  hour  on  the 
relations  of  something  or  other  in  Germany  to — 
er — something  else — a  very  important  point,  I 
assure  you." 

"I  always  thought  him  very  clever,"  said 
Lady  Alicia  with  a  touch  of  warmth,  and  then 
instantly  changed  color  at  the  horrible  slip. 

"You  always,"  said  the  Countess  in  alarmed 
astonishment;  "you  hardly  spoke  to  him  yester- 
day, and — had  you  met  him  before  ?  " 

"  I — I  meant  the  Baron,  mamma." 


202        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

"  But  I  have  just  been  saying  that  he  was  un- 
usually clever." 

"But  I  thought,  I  mean  it  seemed  as  though 
you  considered  him  only  well  informed." 

Lady  Alicia's  blushes  and  confusion  deepened. 
Her  mother  looked  at  her  with  a  softening  eye. 
Suddenly  she  rose,  kissed  her  affectionately,  and 
said  with  the  tenderness  of  triumph,  "  My  dear 
girl!  Of  course  he  is;  clever,  well  informed,  and 
a  most  desirable  young  man.  My  Alicia  could 
not  do " 

She  stopped,  as  if  she  thought  this  was  per- 
haps a  little  premature  (though  the  Countess's 
methods  inclined  to  the  summary  and  decisive), 
and  again  kissing  her  daughter  affectionately,  re- 
marked gaily,  "  Let  me  see,  why,  it's  almost  time 
we  went  for  our  little  walk!  We  mustn't  really 
disappoint  those  young  men.  I  am  in  the  middle 
of  such  an  amusing  discussion  with  Mr.  Bunker, 
who  is  really  a  very  sensible  man  and  quite  worthy 
of  the  Baron's  judgment." 

Poor  Lady  Alicia  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel 
more  relieved  at  her  escape  or  dismayed  at  the 
construction  put  upon  her  explanation.  She 
went  out  to  meet  the  Baron,  determined  to  give 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        203 

no  further  color  to  her  mother's  unlucky  miscon- 
ception. The  Countess  was  far  too  experienced 
and  determined  a  general  to  leave  it  at  all  doubt- 
ful who  should  walk  by  whose  side,  and  who 
should  have  the  opportunity  of  appreciating 
whose  merits,  but  Lady  Alicia  was  quite  resolved 
that  the  Baron's  blandishments  should  fall  on 
stony  ground. 

But  a  soft  heart  and  an  undecided  mouth  are 
treacherous  companions.  The  Baron  was  so 
amiable  and  so  gallant,  that  at  the  end  of  half  an 
hour  she  was  obliged  to  abate  the  strictness  of 
her  resolution.  She  should  treat  him  with  the 
friendliness  of  a  brother.  She  learned  that  he 
had  no  sisters:  her  decision  was  confirmed. 

The  enamored  and  delighted  Baron  was  in  the 
seventh  heaven  of  happy  loquacity.  He  poured 
out  particulars  of  his  travels,  his  more  recordable 
adventures,  his  opinions  on  various  social  and 
political  matters,  and  at  last  even  of  the  family 
ghost,  the  hereditary  carpet-beatership,  and  the 
glories  of  Bavaria.  And  Lady  Alicia  listened 
with  what  he  could  not  doubt  was  an  interest 
touched  with  tenderness. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,   artlessly,   "that  you 


204        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

find  anything  to  admire  in  England — compared 
with  Bavaria,  I  mean." 

"  Two  zings  I  haf  not  zere,"  replied  the  Baron, 
waving  his  hand  round  towards  the  horizon. 
"  Vun  is  ze  vet  sheet  of  flowing  sea — says  not 
your  poet  so  ?  Ze  ozzer  "  (laying  his  hand  on  his 
heart)  "is  ze  Lady  Alicia  a  Fyre." 

There  are  some  people  who  catch  sentiment 
whenever  it  happens  to  be  in  the  air,  just  as 
others  almost  equally  unfortunate  regularly  take 
hay-fever. 

Lady  Alicia's  reply  was  much  softer  than  she 
intended,  especially  as  she  could  have  told  any- 
body that  the  Baron's  compliment  was  the  merest 
figure  of  speech. 

"  You  needn't  have  included  me:  I'm  sure  I'm 
not  a  great  attraction." 

"Ze  sea  is  less,  so  zat  leaves  none,"  the  Baron 
smiled. 

"  Didn't  you  see  anybody — I  mean,  anything  in 
London  that  attracted  you — that  you  liked  ?  " 

"Zat  I  liked,  yes,  zat  pairhaps  for  the  moment 
attracted  me ;  but  not  zat  shall  still  attract  me  ven 
I  am  gone  avay." 

The  Baron  sighed  this  time,  and  she  felt  im- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        205 

pelled  to  reply,  with  the  most  sisterly  kindness, 
"  I— we  should,  of  course,  like  to  think  that  you 
didn't  forget  us  altogether." 

"You  need  not  fear." 

Then  Lady  Alicia  began  to  realize  that  this  was 
more  like  a  second  cousin  than  a  brother,  and 
with  sudden  sprightliness  she  cried,  "I  wonder 
where  that  steamer's  going!" 

The  Baron  turned  his  eyes  towards  his  first- 
named  attraction,  but  for  a  professed  lover  of  the 
ocean  his  interest  appeared  slight.  He  only  re- 
plied absently,  "  Ach,  zo  ?  " 

A  little  way  behind  them  walked  Mr.  Bunker 
and  the  Countess.  The  attention  of  Lady  Grillyer 
was  divided  between  the  agreeable  conversation 
of  her  companion  and  the  pleasant  spectacle  of  a 
fabulous  number  of  pfennigs  a-year  bending  its 
titled  head  over  her  daughter.  In  the  middle  of 
one  of  Mr.  Bunker's  most  amusing  stories  she 
could  not  forbear  interrupting  with  a  complacent 
"they  do  make  a  very  handsome  couple! " 

Mr.  Bunker  politely  stopped  his  narrative,  and 
looked  critically  from  his  friend's  gaily  checked 
back  to  Lady  Alicia's  trim  figure. 

"Pray  go  on  with  your  story,  Mr.  Bunker," 


206        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

said  the  Countess,  hastily,  realizing  that  she  had 
thought  a  little  too  loudly. 

"They  are  like,"  responded  Mr.  Bunker,  reply- 
ing to  her  first  remark — "they  are  like  a  pair  of 
gloves." 

The  Countess  raised  her  brows  and  looked  at 
him  sharply. 

"  I  mean,  of  course,  the  best  quality." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  Countess,  suspiciously, 
"  that  you  spoke  a  little  carelessly." 

"My  simile  was  a  little  premature?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  Countess,  decisively. 

"  Let  us  call  them  then  an  odd  pair,"  smiled  Mr. 
Bunker,  unruffled;  "and  only  hope  that  they'll 
turn  out  to  be  the  same  size  and  different 
hands." 

The  Countess  actually  condescended  to  smile 
back. 

"  She  is  a  dear  child,"  she  murmured. 

"His  income,  I  think,  is  sufficient,"  he  an- 
swered. 

Humor  was  not  conspicuous  in  the  Grillyer 
family.  The  Countess  replied  seriously,  "lam 
one  of  those  out-of-date  people,  Mr.  Bunker, 
<vho  consider  some  things  come  before  money. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        20T 

but  the  Baron's  birth  and  position  are  fortunately 
unimpeachable." 

"While  his  mental  qualities,"  said  Mr.  Bunker, 
"are,  in  my  experience,  almost  unique." 

The  Countess  was  confirmed  in  her  opinion  of 
Mr.  Bunker's  discrimination. 

Late  that  night,  after  they  had  parted  with 
their  friends,  the  Baron  smoked  in  the  most  un- 
wonted silence  while  Mr.  Bunker  dozed  on  the 
sofa.  Several  times  Rudolph  threw  restive 
glances  at  his  friend,  as  if  he  had  something  on 
his  mind  that  he  needed  a  helping  hand  to  un- 
burden himself  of.  At  last  the  silence  grew  so 
intolerable  that  he  screwed  up  his  courage  and 
with  desperate  resolution  exclaimed,  "  Bonker!  " 

Mr.  Bunker  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up. 

"  Bonker,  I  am  in  loff!" 

Mr.  Bunker  smiled  and  stretched  himself  out 
again. 

"  I  have  also  been  in  love,"  he  replied. 

"You  are  not  now?" 

"Alas!  no." 

"Vy  alas?" 

"  Because  follies  without  illusions  get  so  infer- 
nally dull,  Baron." 


208        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

The  Baron  smiled  a  little  foolishly. 
"I  haf  ze  illusions,  I  fear."    Then  he  broke 
out  enthusiastically,  "Ach,  bot  is  she  not  lofly, 
Bonker  ?    If  she  will  bot  lof  me  back  I  shall  be 
ze  happiest  man  out  of  heaven!  " 
"  You  have  wasted  no  time,  Baron." 
The  Baron  shook  his  head  in  melancholy  pleas- 
ure. 

"You   are   quite    sure  it  is  really  love  this 
time?"  his  friend  pursued. 

"  Qvite! "  said  the  Baron,  with  the  firmness  of 
a  martyr. 

"There  are  so  many  imitations." 
"Not  so  close  zat  zey  can  deceive!  " 
"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mr.  Bunker.  "These 
first  symptoms  are  common  to  them  all,  and  yet 
the  varieties  of  the  disease  are  almost  beyond 
counting.  I  myself  have  suffered  from  it  in 
eight  different  forms.  There  was  the  virulent, 
spotted-all-over  variety,  known  as  calf-love; 
there  was  the  kind  that  accompanied  itself  by  a 
course  of  the  Restoration  dramatists;  another 
form  I  may  call  the  strayed-Platonic,  and  that 
may  be  subdivided  into  at  least  two;  then  there 
was " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        209 

"Schtop!  schtop!  "cried  the  Baron.  "Ha,  ha, 
ha!  Zat  will  do!  Teufel!  I  most  examine  my 
heart  strictly.  And  yet,  Bonker,  I  zink  my  loff  is 
anozzer  kind — ze  real !  " 

"They  are  all  that,  Baron;  but  have  it  your 
own  way.  Anything  I  can  do  to  make  you 
worse  shall  be  done." 

"Zanks,  my  best  of  friends,"  said  the  Baron 
warmly,  seizing  his  hand;  "I  knew  you  would 
stand  by  me!" 

Mr.  Bunker  gave  a  little  laugh,  and  returning 
the  pressure,  replied,  "My  dear  fellow,  I'd  do 
anything  to  oblige  a  friend  in  such  an  interesting 
condition." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  Baron  was  a  few  minutes  late  in  joining 
the  party  at  lunch,  and  when  he  appeared  he 
held  an  open  letter  in  his  hand.  It  was  only  the 
middle  of  the  next  day,  and  yet  he  could  have 
sworn  that  last  night  he  was  comparatively 
whole-hearted,  he  felt  so  very  much  more  in  love 
already. 

"Yet  anozzer  introdogtion  has  found  me  out," 
he  said  as  he  took  his  seat.  "  I  have  here  a  letter 
of  invitation  vich  I  do  not  zink  I  shall  accept." 

He  threw  an  amorous  glance  at  Lady  Alicia, 
which  her  watchful  mother  rightly  interpreted  as 
indicating  the  cause  of  his  intended  refusal. 

"  Who  is  it  this  time  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bunker. 

"Sir  Richard  Brierley  of  Brierley  Park,  Damp- 
shire.  Is  zat  how  you  pronounce  it  ?  " 

"Sir  Richard  Brierley!  "  exclaimed  the  Count- 
ess; "  why,  Alicia  and  I  are  going  to  visit  some 
relatives  of  ours  who  live  only  six  miles  from 
Brierley  Park!  When  has  he  asked  you,  Baron  ?" 
210 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        211 

"  Ze  end  of  next  week." 

"  How  odd!  We  are  going  down  to  Damp- 
shire  at  the  end  of  next  week  too.  You  must 
accept,  Baron! " 

"I  shall!"  exclaimed  the  overjoyed  Baron. 
"Shall  ve  go,  Bonker?" 

"  I'm  not  asked,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Ach,  bot  zat  is  nozzing.     I  shall  tell  him." 

"As  you  please,  Baron,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker, 
with  a  half  glance  at  Lady  Alicia. 

The  infatuated  Baron  had  already  begun  to 
dread  the  inevitable  hour  of  separation,  and  this 
piece  of  good  fortune  put  him  into  the  highest 
spirits.  He  felt  so  amiable  towards  the  whole 
world  that  when  the  four  went  out  for  a  stroll  in 
the  afternoon  he  lingered  for  a  minute  by  Lady 
Grillyer's  side,  and  in  that  minute  Mr.  Bunker 
and  Lady  Alicia  were  out  of  hail  ahead.  The 
Baron's  face  fell. 

"Shall  I  come  down  to  this  place  ?"  said  Mr. 
Bunker. 

"  Would  you  like  to  ?" 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  he  replied,  "  to  part  with 
—the  Baron." 

Lady  Alicia  had  expected  a  slightly  different 


212        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

ending  to  this  sentence,  and  so,  to  tell  the  truth, 
Mr.  Bunker  had  intended. 

"  Oh,  if  you  can't  stay  away  from  the  Baron, 
you  had  better  go." 

"It  is  certainly  very  hard  to  tear  myself  away 
from  so  charming  a  person  as  the  Baron;  per- 
haps you  can  feel  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  is  very — nice." 

"  He  thinks  you  very  nice." 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Lady  Alicia,  with  great  in- 
difference, and  a  moment  later  changed  the 
subject. 

Meanwhile  the  Baron  was  growing  very  un- 
easy. Of  course  it  was  quite  natural  that  Mr. 
Bunker  should  find  it  pleasant  to  walk  for  a  few 
minutes  by  the  side  of  the  fairest  creature  on 
earth,  and  very  possibly  he  was  artfully  pleading 
his  friend's  cause.  Yet  the  Baron  felt  uneasy. 
He  remembered  Mr.  Bunker's  invariable  success 
with  the  gentler  sex,  his  wit,  his  happy  smile, 
and  his  good  looks;  and  he  began  to  wish  most 
sincerely  that  these  fascinations  were  being  ex- 
ercised on  the  now  somewhat  breathless  Count- 
ess, for  his  efforts  to  overtake  the  pair  in  front 
had  both  annoyed  and  exhausted  Lady  Grillyer. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        213 

"Need  we  walk  quite  so  fast,  Baron?"  she 
suggested;  and  Lady  Grillyer's  suggestions  were 
of  the  kind  that  are  evidently  meant  to  be  acted 
upon. 

"  Ach,  I  did  forged,"  said  the  Baron,  absently, 
and  without  further  remark  he  slackened  his  pace 
for  a  few  yards  and  then  was  off  again. 

"  You  were  telling  me,"  gasped  the  Countess, 
"  of  something  you  thought  of — doing  when — 
you  went — home." 

"Zo?  Oh,  yes,  it  vas — Teufel!  I  do  not  re- 
member." 

"  Really,  Baron,"  said  the  Countess,  decidedly, 
"  I  cannot  go  any  farther  at  this  rate.  Let  us 
turn.  The  others  will  be  turning  too,  in  a  min- 
ute." 

In  fact  the  unlucky  Baron  had  clean  run  Lady 
Grillyer's  maternal  instincts  off  their  feet,  and  he 
suffered  for  it  by  seeing  nothing  of  either  his 
friend  or  his  charmer  for  an  hour  and  a  half. 

That  night  he  accepted  Sir  Richard's  invita- 
tion, but  said  nothing  whatever  about  bringing  a 
friend. 

For  the  next  week  Rudolph  was  in  as  many 
states  of  mind  as  there  were  hours  in  each  day. 


214:        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

He  walked  and  rode  and  drove  with  Lady  Alicia 
through  the  most  romantic  spots  he  could  find. 
He  purchased  a  large  assortment  of  golf-clubs, 
and  under  her  tuition  essayed  to  play  that  most 
dangerous  of  games  for  mixed  couples.  In  turn 
he  broke  every  club  in  his  set;  the  cavities  he 
hewed  in  the  links  are  still  pointed  out  to  the 
curious;  but  the  heart  of  the  Lady  Alicia  alone  he 
seemed  unable  to  damage.  There  was  always  a 
moment  at  which  his  courage  failed  him,  and  in 
that  fatal  pause  she  invariably  changed  the  sub- 
ject with  the  most  innocent  air  in  the  world. 

Every  now  and  then  the  greenest  spasms  of 
jealousy  would  seize  him.  Why  did  she  elect  to 
disappear  with  Mr.  Bunker  on  the  very  morning 
that  he  had  resolved  should  settle  his  fate  ?  It  is 
true  he  had  made  the  same  resolution  every 
morning,  but  on  this  particular  one  he  had  no 
doubt  he  would  have  put  his  faith  to  the  touch. 
And  why  on  a  certain  moonlight  evening  was  he 
left  to  the  unsentimental  company  of  the 
Countess  ? 

He  made  no  further  reference  to  the  visit  to 
Brierley  Park ;  in  fact  he  shunned  discussion  of 
any  kind  with  his  quondam  bosom  friend. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        215 

The  time  slipped  past  till  the  visit  to  St.  Eg- 
bert's was  almost  at  an  end.  On  the  day  after 
to-morrow  all  four  were  going  to  leave  (where 
Mr.  Bunker  was  going,  his  friend  never  troubled 
to  inquire). 

They  sat  together  latish  in  the  evening  in  the 
Baron's  room.  That  very  afternoon  Lady  Alicia 
had  spent  more  time  in  Mr.  Bunker's  society  than 
in  his,  and  the  Baron  felt  that  the  hour  had  come 
for  an  explanation. 

"Bonker,  I  haf  a  suspection!  "  he  exclaimed, 
suddenly.  "It  is  not  I,  bot  you,  who  are  ze 
friend  to  ze  beautiful  Lady  Alicia.  You  are 
not  doing  me  fair!" 

"  My  dear  Baron!" 

"It  is  so:  you  are  not  doing  me  fair,"  the 
Baron  reiterated. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  "  it  is 
you  are  so  much  in  love  that  you  have  lost 
your  wonted  courage.  You  don't  use  your 
chances." 

"I  do  not  get  zem." 

"Nonsense,  Baron!  I  haven't  spent  one  hour 
in  Lady  Alicia's  company  to  your  twenty-four, 
and  yet  if  I'd  been  matrimonially  inclined  1 


216        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

could  have  proposed  twice  over.  You've  had 
the  chance  of  being  accepted  fifty  times." 

"I  haf  not  been  accepted  vunce,"  said  the 
Baron  moodily. 

"Have  you  put  the  question  ?" 

"I  haf  not  dared." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Baron,  whose  fault  is  that?" 

The  Baron  was  silent. 

"  Ask  her  to-morrow." 

"No,  Bonker,"  said  the  Baron,  sadly;  "she 
treats  me  not  like  a  lover.  She  talks  of  friend- 
ship. I  do  not  vish  a  frient! " 

Mr.  Bunker  looked  thoughtfully  up  at  the  ceil- 
ing. "  You  don't  think  you  have  touched  her 
heart?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"I  fear  not." 

"You  must  try  an  infallible  recipe  for 
winning  a  woman's  heart.  You  must  be  in 
trouble." 

"In  trouble!" 

"I  have  tried  it  once  myself,  with  great 
success." 

"Bothow?" 

"  You  must  fall  ill." 

"Bot  I  cannot;  I  am  too  healthful,  alas!" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        217 

Mr.  Bunker  smiled  artfully.  "They  come  to 
tea  in  our  rooms  to-morrow,  you  know.  By 
then,  Baron,  you  must  be  laid  up,  ill  or  not, 
just  as  you  please.  A  grain  of  Lady  Alicia's 
sympathy  is  worth  more  than  a  ton  of  even 
your  wit." 

The  standard  chosen  for  the  measurement  of  his 
wit  escaped  the  Baron,  the  scheme  delighted  him. 

"Ha,  Bonker!  schon!  I  tvig!  Goot!"  he 
cried.  "  How  shall  ve  do  ?" 

"Leave  it  to  me." 

The  Baron  reflected,  and  his  smile  died  away. 

"Sopposing,"  he  said,  slowly,  "zey  find  out  ? 
Is  it  vise  ?  Is  it  straight  ?  " 

"They  can't  find  out.  They  go  the  next 
morning,  and  what's  to  prevent  your  making 
a  quick  recovery  and  pluckily  going  down  to 
Brierley  Park  as  the  interesting  convalescent  ? 
She  will  know  that  you've  made  a  dangerous 
journey  on  her  account." 

The  Baron's  face  cleared  again. 

"  Let  us  try! "  he  said;  "anyzing  is  better  zan 
my  present  state.  Bot,  be  careful,  Bonker!  " 

"  I  shall  take  the  most  minute  precautions,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Bunker. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  next  morning  the  two  conspirators  break- 
fasted early.  The  Baron  seemed  a  little  nervous 
now  that  it  came  so  .near  the  venture,  but  his 
friend  was  as  cheerful  as  a  schoolboy,  and  his 
confident  air  soon  put  fresh  courage  into 
Rudolph. 

Mr.  Bunker's  bedroom  opened  out  of  their 
common  sitting-room,  and  so  he  declared  that 
in  the  afternoon  the  Baron  must  be  laid  up  there. 

"Keep  your  room  all  morning,"  he  said, 
"and  look  as  pale  as  you  can.  I  shall  make 
my  room  ready  for  you." 

When  the  Baron  had  retired,  he  threw  himself 
into  a  chair  and  gazed  for  a  few  minutes  round 
his  bedroom.  Then  he  rang  his  bell,  ordered  the 
servant  to  make  the  bed  immediately,  and  pres- 
ently went  out  to  do  some  shopping.  On  the 
way  he  sent  word  to  the  Countess,  telling  her 
only  that  the  Baron  was  indisposed,  but  that  in 
spite  of  this  misfortune  he  hoped  he  should  have 

the  pleasure  of  their  company  at  tea.     The  rest 
218 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        219 

of  the  morning  he  spent  in  his  bedroom,  prudently 
keeping  out  of  the  ladies'  way. 

When,  after  a  substantial  lunch  which  he  in- 
sisted upon  getting  up  to  eat,  the  Baron  was  al- 
lowed to  enter  the  sick-room,  he  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  astonishment, — and  indeed  his  sur- 
prise was  natural.  The  room  was  as  full  of  flow- 
ers as  a  conservatory;  chairs,  wardrobe,  and  fire- 
place were  most  artistically  draped  with  art  hang- 
ings; a  plate  filled  with  grapes,  a  large  bottle  la- 
beled "  Two  tablespoonfuls  every  half  hour,"  and 
a  medicine-glass  were  placed  conspicuously  on  a 
small  table;  and,  most  remarkable  feature  of  all, 
Mr.  Bunker's  bath  filled  with  water  and  alive  with 
goldfish  stood  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  A  couple 
of  canaries  sang  in  a  cage  by  the  window,  the 
half-drawn  curtains  only  permitted  the  most  deli- 
cate light  to  steal  into  the  room,  and  in  short  the 
whole  arrangement  reflected  the  utmost  credit  on 
his  ingenious  friend. 

The  Baron  was  delighted,  but  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Vat  for  are  zese  fishes  and  ze  canaries  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  To  show  your  love  of  nature." 

"Vyso?" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  There  is  nothing  that  pleases  a  woman  more." 

"  My  friend,  you  zink  of  everyzing!  "  exclaimed 
the  Baron,  admiringly. 

When  four  o'clock  approached  he  drew  a  night- 
shirt over  his  other  garments  and  got  into  bed. 
Mr.  Bunker  at  first  was  in  favor  of  a  complete 
change  of  attire,  but  on  his  friend's  expostulating 
against  such  a  thorough  precaution,  he  admitted 
that  it  would  be  perhaps  rather  like  the  historic 
blacking  of  Othello. 

"Leave  it  all  to  me,  my  dear  Baron,"  he  said, 
reassuringly,  as  he  tucked  him  in;  and  with  that 
he  went  into  the  other  room  and  awaited  the  ar- 
rival of  their  guests. 

They  came  punctually.  The  Countess  was  full 
of  concern  for  the  "dear  Baron,"  while  Lady 
Alicia,  he  could  not  help  thinking,  appeared  un- 
usually reserved.  In  fact,  his  quick  eye  soon 
divined  that  something  was  the  matter. 

"She  has  either  been  getting  a  lecture  from  the 
dowager  or  has  found  something  out,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

However,  it  seemed  that  if  she  had  found  any- 
thing out  it  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
Baron's  indisposition,  for  she  displayed  the  most 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        221 

ingenuous  sympathy,  and,  he  thought,  she  even 
appeared  to  aim  it  pointedly  at  himself. 

"  So  sudden!  "  exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"It  is  rather  sudden,  but  we'll  hope  it  may 
pass  as  quickly  as  it  came,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  con- 
veying a  skilful  impression  of  deep  concern  veiled 
by  a  cheerful  manner. 

"Tell  me  honestly,  Mr.  Bunker,  is  it  danger- 
ous ?"  demanded  the  Countess. 

Mr.  Bunker  hesitated,  gave  a  half-hearted  laugh, 
and  replied,  "Oh,  dear,  no!  that  is — at  present, 
Lady  Grillyer,  we  have  really  no  reason  to  be 
alarmed." 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  murmured  Lady  Alicia. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  approvingly. 

"  Poor  Baron !  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  great- 
est commiseration. 

"So  far  from  home!"  sighed  Mr.  Bunker. 
"And  yet  so  cheerful  through  it  all,"  he 
added. 

"What  did  you  say  was  the  matter?"  asked 
the  Countess. 

Mr.  Bunker  had  thought  it  both  wiser  and 
more  effective  to  maintain  a  little  mystery  round 
his  friend's  malady. 


222        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"The  doctor  hasn't  yet  given  a  decided  opin- 
ion," he  replied. 

"Can't  we  do  anything?"  said  Lady  Alicia, 
softly. 

Mr.  Bunker  thought  the  guests  were  nearly 
worked  up  to  the  proper  pitch  of  sympathy. 

"Poor  Rudolph!"  he  exclaimed.  "It  would 
cheer  him  immensely,  1  know,  and  ease  my  own 
anxiety  as  well,  if  you  would  venture  in  to  see 
him  for  a  few  minutes.  In  such  a  case  there  is 
no  sympathy  so  welcome  as  a  woman's." 

The  Countess  glanced  at  her  daughter,  and 
wavered  for  an  instant  between  those  proprieties 
for  which  she  was  a  famous  stickler  and  this  ad- 
mirable chance  of  completing  the  Baron's  con- 
quest. 

"  His  relations  are  far  away,"  said  Mr.  Bunker, 
looking  pensively  out  of  the  window. 

"  We  might  come  in  for  a  few  minutes, 
Alicia?"  suggested  Lady  Grillyer. 

"Yes,  mamma,"  replied  Lady  Alicia,  with  an 
alacrity  that  rather  surprised  their  host. 

With  a  pleasantly  dejected  air  he  ushered  the 
ladies  into  the  darkened  sick-room.  The  Baron, 
striving  to  conceal  his  exultation  under  a  rueful 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        223 

semblance,  greeted  them  with  a  languid  yet 
happy  smile. 

"Ah,  Lady  Grillyer,  zis  is  kind  indeed!  And 
you,  Lady  Alicia,  how  can  I  zank  you  ?  " 

"My  daughter  and  I  are  much  distressed, 
Baron,  to  find  our  host  hors  de  combat,"  said  the 
Countess,  graciously. 

"Just  when  you  wanted  to  go  away  too!" 
added  Lady  Alicia,  sympathetically. 

The  Baron  emitted  a  happy  blend  of  sigh  and 
groan. 

"Alas!"  he  replied,  "it  is  hard  indeed." 

"  You  must  hurry  up  and  get  better,"  said  the 
Countess,  in  her  most  cheering  sick-room  man- 
ner. "It  won't  do  to  disappoint  the  Brierleys, 
you  know." 

"  You  must  come  down  for  part  of  the  time," 
smiled  her  daughter. 

These  expressions  of  sympathy  so  affected  the 
Baron  that  he  placed  his  hand  on  his  brow  and 
turned  slightly  away  to  conceal  his  emotion.  At 
the  same  time  Mr.  Bunker,  with  well-timed 
dramatic  effect,  sank  wearily  into  a  chair,  and, 
laying  his  elbow  on  the  back,  hid  his  own  face  in 
his  hand. 


224        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Their  guests  jumped  to  the  most  alarming  con- 
clusions, and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with 
great  concern. 

"  Dear  me! "  said  the  Countess,  "  surely  it  isn't 
so  very  serious,  Mr.  Bunker;  it  isn't  infectious,  is 
it?" 

The  unlucky  Baron  here  made  his  first  mistake: 
without  waiting  for  his  more  diplomatic  friend  to 
reply,  he  answered  hastily,  "  Ach,  no,  it  is  hot  a 
cold." 

Lady  Grillyer's  expression  changed. 

"  A  cold!  "  she  said.  "  Dear  me,  that  can't  be 
so  very  serious,  Baron." 

"  It  is  a  bad  cold,"  said  the  Baron. 

By  this  time  the  ladies'  eyes  were  growing  more 
used  to  the  dim  light,  and  Mr.  Bunker  could  see 
that  they  were  taking  rapid  stock  of  the  garnish- 
ings. 

"This,  I  suppose  is  your  cough-mixture,"  said 
the  Countess,  examining  the  bottle. 

The  Baron  incautiously  admitted  it  was. 

"Two  tablespoonfuls  every  half  hour!"  she 
exclaimed;  "why,  I  never  heard  of  taking  a 
cough-mixture  in  such  doses.  Besides,  your 
cough  doesn't  seem  so  very  bad,  Baron." 


225 

"  Ze  doctor  told  me  to  take  it  so,"  replied  the 
Baron. 

The  Countess  turned  towards  Mr.  Bunker,  and 
said,  with  a  touch  of  suspicion  in  her  voice,  "I 
thought,  Mr.  Bunker,  the  doctor  had  given  no 
opinion." 

The  Baron  threw  a  glance  of  intense  ferocity  at 
his  friend. 

"In  the  Baron's  desire  to  spare  your  feelings," 
replied  Mr.  Bunker,  gravely,  "  he  has  been  a  little 
inaccurate;  that  is  not  precisely  an  ordinary 
cough-mixture." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Countess. 

Lady  Alicia's  attention  had  been  strongly  at- 
tracted by  the  bath,  and  suddenly  she  exclaimed, 
"  Why,  there  are  goldfish  in  it!  " 

The  Baron's  nerve  was  fast  deserting 
him. 

"  Ze  doctor  ordered  zem,"  he  began — "  I  mean, 
I  am  fond  of  fishes." 

The  Countess  looked  hard  at  the  unhappy 
young  man,  and  then  turned  severely  to  his 
friend. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  Baron  ?"  she  de- 
manded. 


226        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Mr.  Bunker  saw  that  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  heroic  measures. 

"The  dog  was  destroyed  at  once,"  he  replied, 
with  intense  gravity.  "  It  is  therefore  impossible 
to  say  exactly  what  is  the  matter." 

"  The  dog!"  cried  the  two  ladies  together. 

"By  this  evening,"  he  continued,  "we  shall 
know  the  worst — or  the  best." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  exclaimed  the  Coun- 
tess, withdrawing  a  step  from  the  bed. 

"I  mean,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  with  a  happy 
inspiration,  "that  this  bath  is  a  delicate  test.  No 
victim  of  the  dread  disease  of  hydrophobia  can 
bear  to  look " 

But  the  Countess  gave  him  no  time  to  finish. 
Even  as  he  was  speaking  the  Baron's  face  had 
passed  through  a  series  of  the  most  extraordinary 
expressions,  which  she  not  unnaturally  put  down 
to  premonitory  symptoms. 

"It's  beginning  already!"  she  shrieked. 
"Alicia,  my  love,  come  quickly.  How  dare  you 
expose  us,  sir?" 

"  Calm  yourselves.  I  assure  you "  pleaded 

Mr.  Bunker,  coming  hastily  after  them,  but  they 
were  at  the  door  before  him. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        227 

The  hapless  Baron  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
Crying,  "No,  no,  it  is  false!"  he  sprang  out  of 
bed,  arrayed  in  a  tweed  suit  only  half  concealed 
by  his  night-shirt,  and,  forgetting  all  about  the 
bath,  descended  with  a  great  splash  among  the 
startled  goldfish. 

The  Countess  paused  in  the  half-opened  door 
and  looked  at  him  with  horror  that  rapidly  passed 
into  intense  indignation. 

"I  am  not  ill!"  he  cried.  "It  vos  zat  rascal 
Bonkers  plot.  He  made  me!  I  haf  not  hydro- 
phobia!" 

Most  unkindest  cut  of  all,  Lady  Alicia  went  off 
into  hysterical  giggles.  For  a  moment  her 
mother  glared  at  the  two  young  men  in  silence, 
and  then  only  remarking,  "I  have  never  been  so 
insulted  before,"  she  went  out,  and  her  daughter 
followed  her. 

As  the  door  closed  Mr.  Bunker  went  off  into 
roar  after  roar  of  laughter,  but  the  humorous  side 
of  the  situation  seemed  to  appeal  very  slightly  to 
his  injured  friend. 

"  You  rascal!  you  villain!  "  he  shouted,  "zis  is 
ze  end  of  our  friendship,  Bonker!  Do  you  use 
ze  pistols  ?  Tell  me,  sare!  " 


228        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"My  dear  Baron,"  gasped  Mr.  Bunker,  "I 
could  not  put  such  an  inartistic  end  to  so  fine  a 
joke  for  the  world." 

"You  vill  not  fight?  Coward!  poltroon!  I 
know  not  ze  English  name  bad  enoff  for  you! " 

With  difficulty  Mr.  Bunker  composed  himself 
and  replied,  still  smiling:  "  After  all,  Baron,  what 
harm  has  been  done  ?  I  get  all  the  blame,  and 
the  sympathy  you  wanted  is  sure  to  turn  to 
you." 

"  False  friend!  "  thundered  the  Baron. 

"My  dear  Baron!"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  mildly, 
"whose  fault  was  it  that  the  plot  miscarried? 
If  you'd  only  left  it  all  to  me " 

"  Left  it  to  you!  Yes,  I  left  too  moch  to  you! 
Traitor,  it  vas  a  trick  to  vin  ze  Lady  Alicia  for 
yourself!  Speak  to  me  nevermore!"  And  with 
that  the  infuriated  nobleman  rushed  off  to  his 
own  room. 

As  there  was  no  further  sign  of  him  for  the 
next  half  hour,  Mr.  Bunker,  still  smiling  to  him- 
self at  the  recollection,  went  out  to  take  the  air; 
but  just  as  he  was  about  to  descend  the  stairs  he 
spied  Lady  Alicia  lingering  in  the  passage.  He 
turned  back  and  went  up  to  her. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        229 

She  began  at  once  in  a  low  hurried  voice  that 
seemed  to  have  a  strain  of  anger  running  be- 
neath it. 

"  I  got  the  two  letters  I  wrote  you  returned  to 
me  to-day  through  the  dead-letter  office.  Noth- 
ing was  known  about  you  at  the  address  you 
gave." 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  he  replied. 

"Then  it  was  false?" 

"As  an  address  it  was  perfectly  genuine,  only 
it  didn't  happen  to  be  mine." 

"Were  you  ever  in  the  Church  ?" 

"Not  to  my  personal  knowledge." 

"  Yet  you  said  you  were  ?  " 

"  I  was  in  an  asylum." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  fine  contempt, 
while  he  smiled  back  at  her  with  great  amuse- 
ment. 

"  You  have  deceived  me,"  she  said,  "and  you 
have  treated  your  other  friend — who  is  far  too 
good  for  you — disgracefully.  Have  you  any- 
thing to  say  for  yourself  ?  " 

"Not  a  word,"  he  replied,  cheerfully. 

"  You  must  never  treat  me  again  as — as  I  let 
you." 


230        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

As  a  smile  played  for  an  instant  about  his  face, 
she  added  quickly,"!  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever 
see  you  again.  In  future  we  are  not  likely  to 
meet." 

"  The  lady  and  the  lunatic  ?  "  said  he.  "  Well, 
perhaps  not.  Good-bye,  and  better  luck." 

"  Good-bye,"  she  answered  coldly,  and  added 
as  they  parted,  "My  mother  of  course,  is  ex- 
tremely angry  with  you." 

"There,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "you  see  I  still 
come  in  useful." 

She  hurried  away,  and  Mr.  Bunker  walked 
slowly  down-stairs  and  out  of  the  hotel. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  reflected,  "that  I  shall 
have  to  set  out  on  my  adventures  again  alone." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Baron's  natural  good  temper  might  have 
forgiven  his  friend,  but  all  night  he  was  a  prey 
to  something  against  which  no  temper  is  proof. 
The  Baron  was  bitterly  jealous.  All  through 
breakfast  he  never  spoke  a  word,  and  when 
Mr.  Bunker  asked  him  what  train  he  intended 
to  take,  he  replied  curtly,  as  he  went  to  the  door, 
"Zes^o." 

"  And  where  do  you  go  now  ?  " 

"  Vat  is  zat  to  you  ?  I  go  for  a  valk.  I  vould 
be  alone." 

"Good-bye,  then,  Baron,"  said  Mr.  Bunker. 
"  I  think  I  shall  go  up  to  town." 

"Go,  zen,"  replied  the  Baron,  opening  the 
door;  "I  haf  no  furzer  vish  to  see  a  treacherous 
sponge  zat  vill  neizer  be  true  nor  fight,  bot  jost 
takes  money." 

He  slammed  the  door  and  went  out.     If  he 

had  waited  for  a  moment,  he  would  have  seen  a 

look  in  Mr.  Bunker's  face  that  he  had  never  seen 

before.     He  half  started  from  his  chair  to  follow, 

231 


232        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

and  then  sat  down  again  and  thought  with  his 
lips  very  tight  set. 

All  at  once  they  broke  into  a  smile  that  was 
grimmer  than  anything  the  Baron  had  known. 

"I  accept  your  challenge,  Baron  Rudolph  von 
Blitzenberg,"  he  said  to  himself;  "but  the  weap- 
ons I  shall  choose  myself." 

He  took  a  telegraph  form,  wrote  and  de- 
spatched a  wire,  and  then  with  considerable 
haste  proceeded  to  pack.  Within  an  hour  he 
had  left  the  hotel. 


When  a  servant,  later  in  the  day,  was  per- 
forming, under  the  Baron's  directions,  the  same 
office  for  him,  a  series  of  discoveries  that  still 
further  disturbed  his  peace  of  mind  were  jointly 
made.  Not  only  the  more  sporting  portions  of  his 
wardrobe  but  his  gun  and  cartridges  as  well  had 
vanished,  and,  search  and  storm  as  he  liked, 
there  was  not  a  trace  of  them  to  be  found. 

"Ze  rascal!  "  he  muttered;  "I  did  not  zink  he 
was  zief  as  well." 

It  is  hardly  wonderful  that  he  arrived  at 
Brierley  station  in  anything  but  an  amiable 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE        233 

frame  of  mind.  There,  to  his  great  annoy- 
ance and  surprise,  he  found  no  signs  of  Sir 
Richard's  carriage;  there  were  no  stables  near, 
and,  after  fuming  for  some  time  on  the  plat- 
form, he  was  forced  to  leave  his  luggage  with 
the  station-master  and  proceed  on  foot  to  Brierley 
Park. 

He  arrived  shortly  before  seven  o'clock,  after  a 
dark  and  muddy  tramp,  and,  still  swearing  under 
his  breath,  pulled  the  bell  with  indignant  energy. 

"I  am  ze  Baron  von  Blitzenberg,  bot  zere  vas 
no  carriage  at  ze  station,"  he  informed  the  butler 
in  his  haughtiest  tones. 

The  man  looked  at  him  suspiciously. 

"The  Baron  arrived  this  morning,"  he  said. 

"  Ze  Baron  ?    Vat  Baron  ?    I  am  ze  Baron!  " 

"I  shall  fetch  Sir  Richard,"  said  the  butler, 
turning  away. 

Presently  a  stout  florid  gentleman,  accom- 
panied by  three  friends,  all  evidently  very  curi- 
ous and  amused  about  something,  came  to  the 
door,  and,  to  the  poor  Baron's  amazement  and 
horror,  he  recognized  in  one  of  these  none  other 
than  Mr.  Bunker,  arrayed  with  much  splendor 
in  his  own  ornate  shooting  suit. 


234        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  florid  gen- 
tleman, sternly. 

"Have  I  ze  pleasure  of  addressing  Sir  Richard 
Brierley?"  inquired  the  Baron,  raising  his  hat 
and  bowing  profoundly. 

"You  have." 

"Zen  I  must  tell  you  zat  I  am  ze  Baron 
Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg." 

"Gom,  gom,  my  man!"  interposed  Mr.  Bun- 
ker. "I  know  you.  Zis  man,  Sir  Richard,  has 
before  annoyed  me.  He  is  vat  you  call  impostor, 
cracked;  he  has  vollowed  me  from  Germany. 
Go  avay,  man! " 

"  You  are  impostor!  You  scoundrel,  Bonker! " 
shouted  the  wrathful  Baron.  "He  is  no  Baron, 
Sir  Richard!  Ha!  Vould  you  again  deceive  me, 
Bonker  ?" 

"You  must  lock  him  up,  I  fear,"  said  Mr. 
Bunker.  "To-morrow  my  man,  you  vill  see  ze 
police." 

So  completely  did  the  Baron  lose  his  head  that 
he  became  almost  inarticulate  with  rage:  his 
protestations,  however,  were  not  of  the  slightest 
avail.  That  morning  Sir  Richard  had  received  a 
wire  informing  him  that  the  Baron  was  coming 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        235 

by  an  earlier  train  than  he  had  originally  in- 
tended, and,  since  his  arrival,  the  spurious  noble- 
man had  so  ingratiated  himself  with  his  host 
that  Sir  Richard  was  filled  with  nothing  but 
sympathy  for  him  in  his  persecution.  After  a 
desperate  struggle  the  unfortunate  Rudolph  was 
overpowered  and  conveyed  in  the  undignified 
fashion  known  as  the  frog's  march  to  a  room  in 
a  remote  wing,  there  to  pass  the  night  under 
lock  and  key. 

"The  scoundrelly  German  impostor!"  ex- 
claimed a  young  man,  a  fellow  visitor  of  the 
Baron  Bunker's,  to  a  tall,  military-looking  gentle- 
man. 

Colonel  Savage  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

"  It  is  a  curious  thing,  Trelawney,"  he  replied, 
at  length,  "that  the  footman  who  attends  the 
Baron  should  have  told  my  man — who,  of  course, 
told  me — that  a  number  of  his  things  are  marked 
'  Francis  Beveridge.'  It  is  also  rather  strange 
that  this  impostor  should  have  known  so  little  of 
the  Baron's  movements  as  to  arrive  several  hours 
after  him,  assuming  he  had  hatched  a  plot  to  im- 
personate him." 

"  But  the  man's  obviously  mad." 


236        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  Must  be,"  said  the  colonel. 

The  house  party  were  assembled  in  the  draw- 
ing-room waiting  for  dinner  to  be  announced. 
The  bogus  Baron  was  engaged  in  an  animated 
discussion  with  Colonel  Savage  on  the  subject  of 
Bavarian  shootings,  and  the  colonel  having 
omitted  to  inform  him  that  he  had  some  personal 
experience  of  these,  Mr.  Bunker  was  serving  up 
such  of  his  friend's  anecdotes  as  he  could  remem- 
ber with  sauce  more  peculiarly  his  own. 

"Five  hondred  vild  boars,"  he  was  saying, 
"eight  hondred  brace  of  partridges,  many  bears, 
and  rabbits  so  moch  zat  it  took  five  veeks  to  bury 
zem.  All  zese  ve  did  shoot  before  breakfast, 
colonel.  Aftair  breakfast  again  ve  did  go 
out " 

But  at  that  moment  his  attention  was  sharply 
arrested  by  a  question  of  Lady  Brierley's. 

"  Has  Dr.  Escott  arrived  ?"  she  asked. 

The  Baron  Bunker  paused,  and  in  spite  of  his 
habitual  coolness,  the  observant  colonel  noticed 
that  he  started  ever  so  slightly. 

"He  came  half  an  hour  ago,"  replied  Sir 
Richard.  "Ah,  here  he  is." 

As  he  spoke,  a  well  remembered  figure  came 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        237 

into  the  room,  and  after  a  welcome  from  his  hos- 
tess, the  dinner  procession  started. 

"  Whoever  is  that  tall  fair  man  in  front?"  Dr. 
Escott  asked  his  partner  as  they  crossed  the  hall. 

"Oh,  that's  the  Baron  von  Blitzenberg:  such 
an  amusing  man!  We  are  all  in  love  with  him 
already." 

All  through  dinner  the  spurious  Baron  saw 
that  Dr.  Escott's  eyes  turned  continually  and 
curiously  on  him;  yet  never  for  an  instant  did  his 
spirits  droop  or  his  conversation  flag.  Witty  and 
charming  as  ever,  he  discoursed  in  his  comical 
foreign  accent  to  the  amusement  of  all  within 
hearing,  and  by  the  time  the  gentlemen  adjourned 
to  the  billiard-room,  he  had  established  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  most  delightful  German  ever 
seen.  Yet  Dr.  Escott  grew  more  suspicious  and 
bewildered,  and  Mr.  Bunker  felt  that  he  was 
being  narrowly  watched.  The  skill  at  billiards 
of  a  certain  Francis  Beveridge  used  to  be  the  ob- 
ject of  the  doctor's  unbounded  admiration,  and  it 
was  with  the  liveliest  interest  that  he  watched  a 
game  between  Colonel  Savage  and  the  Baron. 

That  nobleman  knew  well  the  danger  of  dis- 
playing his  old  dexterity,  and  to  the  onlookers  it 


238        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

soon  became  apparent  that  this  branch  of  his 
education  had  been  neglected.  He  not  only 
missed  the  simplest  shots,  but  seemed  very  ig- 
norant of  the  rules  of  the  English  game,  and  in 
consequence  he  came  in  for  a  little  good-natured 
chaff  from  Sir  Richard  and  Trelawney.  When 
the  colonel's  score  stood  at  ninety  and  the  Baron 
had  scarcely  reached  twenty-five  Trelawney 
cried,  "  I'll  bet  you  ten  to  one  you  don't  win, 
Baron!" 

"  What  in  ?"  asked  the  Baron,  and  the  colonel 
noticed  that  for  the  first  time  he  pronounced  a  w 
correctly. 

"  Sovereigns,"  said  Trelawney,  gaily. 

The  temptation  was  irresistible. 

"  Done! "  said  the  Baron.  With  a  professional 
disregard  for  conventions  he  bolted  the  white 
into  the  middle  pocket,  leaving  his  own  ball 
nicely  beside  the  red.  Down  in  its  turn  went  the 
red,  and  Mr.  Bunker  was  on  the  spot.  Three 
followed  three  in  monotonous  succession, 
Trelawney's  face  growing  longer  and  Dr.  Escott 
getting  more  and  more  excited,  till  with  a  smile  Mr. 
Bunker  laid  down  his  cue,  a  sensational  winner. 

His  victory  was  received  in  silence:  Trelawney 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE        2S9 

handed  over  two  five-pound  notes  without  a 
word,  and  the  colonel  returned  to  his  whiskey-and- 
soda.  Dr.  Escott  could  contain  himself  no 
longer,  and  whispering  something  to  Sir  Richard, 
the  two  left  the  room. 

Imperturbable  as  ever,  Mr.  Bunker  talked  gaily 
for  a  few  minutes  to  an  unresponsive  audience, 
and  then,  remarking  that  he  would  join  the  ladies, 
left  the  room. 

A  minute  or  two  later  Sir  Richard,  with  an 
anxious  face,  returned  with  Dr.  Escott. 

"  Where  is  the  Baron  ?"  he  asked. 

"Gone  to  join  the  ladies,"  replied  Trelawney, 
adding  under  his  breath,  "  d n  him! " 

But  the  Baron  was  not  with  the  ladies,  nor, 
search  the  house  as  they  might,  was  there  a  trace 
to  be  seen  of  the  accomplished  nobleman. 

"He  has  gone!"  said  Sir  Richard. 

"What  the  deuce  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?"  ex- 
claimed Trelawney. 

Colonel  Savage  smiled  grimly  and  suggested, 
"  Perhaps  he  wants  to  give  the  impostor  an 
innings." 

"Dr.  Escott,  I  think,  can  tell  you,"  replied  the 
baronet. 


240        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  doctor,  "the  man 
whom  you  have  met  as  the  Baron  von  Blitzen- 
berg  is  none  other  than  a  most  cunning  and 
determined  lunatic.  He  escaped  from  the  asylum 
where  I  am  at  present  assistant  doctor,  after  all 
but  murdering  me;  he  has  been  seen  in  London 
since,  but  how  he  came  to  impersonate  the  un- 
fortunate gentleman  whom  you  locked  up  this 
afternoon  I  cannot  say." 

Before  they  broke  up  for  the  night  the  genuine 
Baron,  released  from  confinement  and  soothed  by 
the  humblest  apologies  and  a  heavy  supper,  re- 
counted the  main  events  in  Mr.  Beveridge  alias 
Bunker's  brief  career  in  town.  On  his  exploits 
in  St.  Egbert's  he  felt  some  delicacy  in  touching, 
but  at  the  end  of  what  was  after  all  only  a  frag- 
mentary and  one-sided  narrative,  even  the  de- 
frauded Trelawney  could  not  but  admit  that, 
whatever  the  departed  gentleman's  failings,  his 
talents  at  least  were  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  party  at  Brierley  Park  had  gone  at  last  to 
bed.  The  Baron  was  installed  in  his  late  usurper's 
room,  and  from  the  clock-tower  the  hour  of  three 
had  just  been  tolled.  Sympathy  and  Sir  Richard's 
cellar  had  greatly  mollified  the  Baron's  wrath;  he 
had  almost  begun  to  see  the  humorous  side  of 
his  late  experience;  as  a  rival  Mr.  Bunker  was 
extinct,  and  with  an  easy  mind  and  a  placid 
smile  he  had  fallen  asleep  some  two  hours 
past. 

The  fire  burned  low,  and  for  long  nothing  but 
the  occasional  sigh  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  dis- 
turbed the  silence.  At  length,  had  the  Baron 
been  awake,  he  might  have  heard  the  stealthiest 
of  footsteps  in  the  corridor  outside.  Then  they 
stopped;  his  door  was  gently  opened,  at  first  a 
head  and  then  a  whole  man  slipped  in. 

Still  the  Baron  slept,  dreaming  peacefully  of 
his  late  companion.  They  were  driving  some- 
where in  a  hansom,  Mr.  Bunker  was  telling  one 
of  his  most  amusing  stories,  when  there  came  a 
241 


242        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

shock,  the  hansom  seemed  to  turn  a  somersault, 
and  the  Baron  awoke.  At  first  he  thought  he 
must  be  dreaming  still;  the  electric  light  had  been 
turned  on  and  the  room  was  bright  as  day,  but, 
more  bewildering  yet,  Mr.  Bunker  was  seated  on 
his  bed,  gazing  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
thoughtful  amusement. 

"  Well,  Baron,"  he  said,  "  I  trust  you  are  com- 
fortable in  these  excellent  quarters." 

The  Baron,  half  awake  and  wholly  astonished, 
was  unable  to  collect  his  ideas  in  time  to  make 
any  reply. 

"  But  remember,"  continued  Mr.  Bunker,  "  you 
have  a  reputation  to  live  up  to.  I  have  set  the 
standard  high  for  Bavarian  barons." 

The  indignant  Baron  at  last  recovered  his  wits. 

"If  you  do  not  go  away  at  vonce,"  he  said, 
raising  himself  on  his  elbows,  "  I  shall  raise  ze 
house  upon  you! " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  you  are  talking  to  a 
dangerous  lunatic,  who  probably  never  stirs  with- 
out his  razor?" 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  and  turned  a  little 
pale.  He  made  no  further  movement,  but  an- 
swered stoutly  enough,  "  Vat  do  you  vant  ?" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        243 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  want  my  brush  and  comb, 
a  few  clothes,  and  my  hand-bag.  Events  hap- 
pened rather  more  quickly  this  evening  than  I 
had  anticipated." 

"Take  zem." 

"I  should  also  like,"  continued  Mr.  Bunker, 
unmoved,  "to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  I 
think  I  owe  you  some  explanation — perhaps  an 
apology  or  two — and  I'm  afraid  it's  my  last 
chance." 

"  Zay  it  zen." 

"Of  course  I  understand  that  you  make  no 
hostile  demonstration  till  I  am  finished  ?  A 
hunted  man  must  take  precautions,  you  know." 

"  I  vill  let  you  go." 

"Thanks,  Baron." 

Mr.  Bunker  folded  his  arms,  leaned  his  back 
against  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  began  in  his 
half-bantering  way,  "  I  have  amused  you,  Baron, 
now  and  then,  you  must  admit  ?  " 

The  Baron  made  no  reply. 

"That  I  place  to  my  credit,  and  I  think  few 
debts  are  better  worth  repaying.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  confess  I  have  subsisted  for  some  time 
entirely  on  your  kindness.  I'm  afraid  that  alone 


244        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

counterbalances  the  debt,  and  when  it  comes  to 
my  being  the  means  of  your  taking  a  bath  in 
mixed  company  and  spending  an  evening  in  a 
locked  room,  there's  no  doubt  the  balance  is 
greatly  on  your  side." 

"  I  zink  so,"  observed  the  Baron. 

"So  I'll  tell  you  a  true  story,  a  favor  with 
which  I  haven't  indulged  any  one  for  some  con- 
siderable time." 

The  Baron  coughed,  but  said  nothing. 

"My  biography  for  all  practical  purposes," 
Mr.  Bunker  continued,  "  begins  in  that  seques- 
tered retreat,  Clankwood  Asylum.  How  and 
with  whom  I  came  there  I  haven't  the  very  faint- 
est recollection.  I  simply  woke  up  from  an  ex- 
traordinary drowsiness  to  find  myself  recovering 
from  a  sharp  attack  of  what  I  may  most  eupho- 
niously call  mental  excitement.  The  original 
cause  of  it  is  very  dim  in  my  mind,  and  has,  so 
far  as  I  remember,  nothing  to  do  with  the  rest  of 
the  story.  The  attack  was  very  short,  I  believe. 
I  soon  came  to  something  more  or  less  like  my- 
self; only,  Baron,  the  singular  thing  is,  that  it 
was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  new  self — 
whether  better  or  worse,  my  faulty  memory 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAKGE        245 

does  not  permit  me  to  say.  I'd  clean  forgotten 
who  I  was  and  all  about  me.  I  found  myself 
called  Francis  Beveridge,  but  that  wasn't  my  old 
name,  I  know." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  the  Baron,  growing  inter- 
ested despite  himself. 

"  And  the  most  remarkable  thing  of  all  is  that 
up  till  this  day  I  haven't  the  very  vaguest  notion 
what  my  real  name  is." 

"  Zo  ?"  said  the  Baron.  "  Bot  vy  should  they 
change  it  ?  " 

"  There  you've  laid  your  finger  on  the  mys- 
tery, Baron.  Why?  Heaven  knows:  I  wish  I 
did!" 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  with  undisguised  in- 
terest. 

"Strange!  "  he  said,  thoughtfully. 

"  Damnably  strange.  I  found  myself  com- 
pelled to  live  in  an  asylum  and  answer  to  a  new 
name,  and  really,  don't  you  know,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances I  could  give  no  very  valid  reason  for 
getting  out.  I  seemed  to  have  blossomed  there 
like  one  of  the  asylum  plants.  I  couldn't  pos- 
sibly have  been  more  identified  with  the  place. 
Besides,  I'm  free  to  confess  that  for  some  time 


246        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

my  reason,  taking  it  all  in  all,  wasn't  particularly 
valid  on  any  point.  By  George,  I  had  a  funny 
time!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  " 

His  mirth  was  so  infectious  that  the  Baron 
raised  his  own  voice  in  a  hearty  "  Ha,  ha!  "  and 
then  stopped  abruptly,  and  said  cautiously,  "Haf 
a  care,  Bonker,  zey  may  hear!  " 

"However,  Baron,"  Mr.  Bunker  continued, 
"  out  I  was  determined  to  get,  and  out  I  came  in 
the  manner  of  which  perhaps  my  friend  Escott 
has  already  informed  you." 

The  Baron  grinned  and  nodded. 

"  I  came  up  to  town,  and  on  my  very  first 
evening  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  the 
Baron  Rudolph  von  Blitzenberg — as  perhaps  you 
may  remember.  In  my  own  defense,  Baron,  I 
may  fairly  plead  that  since  I  could  remember  noth- 
ing about  my  past  career,  I  was  entitled  to  supply 
the  details  from  my  imagination.  After  all,  I 
have  no  proof  that  some  of  my  stories  may  not 
have  been  correct.  I  used  this  privilege  freely  in 
Clankwood,  and,  in  a  word,  since  I  couldn't  tell 
the  truth  if  I  wanted  to,  I  quenched  the  desire." 

"You  hombog!"  said  the  Baron,  not  without 
a  note  of  admiration. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        247 

"  I  was,  and  I  gloried  in  it.  Baron,  if  you  ever 
want  to  know  how  ample  a  thing  life  can  be,  be- 
come a  certified  lunatic!  You  are  quite  irrespon- 
sible for  your  debts,  your  crimes,  and,  not  least, 
your  words.  It  certainly  enlarges  one's  horizon. 
All  this  time,  I  may  say,  I  was  racking  my  brains 
— which,  by  the  way,  have  been  steadily  growing 
saner  in  other  matters — for  some  recollections  of 
my  previous  whereabouts,  my  career,  if  I  had 
any,  and,  above  all,  of  my  name." 

"  Can  you  remember  nozing  ?" 

"  I  can  remember  a  large  country  house  which 
I  think  belonged  to  me,  but  in  what  part  of  the 
country  it  stands  I  haven't  the  slightest  recollec- 
tion. I  can't  remember  any  family,  and  as  no 
one  has  inquired  for  me,  I  don't  suppose  I  had 
any.  Many  incidents — sporting,  festive,  amus- 
ing, and  discreditable — I  remember  distinctly,  and 
many  faces,  but  there's  nothing  to  piece  them  to- 
gether with.  Can  you  recall  one  or  two  in- 
cidents in  town,  when  people  spoke  to  me  or 
bowed  to  me?" 

"Yes,  veil;  I  vondered  zen." 

"  I  suppose  they  knew  me.  In  a  general  sort 
of  way  I  knew  them.  But  when  a  man  doesn't 


248        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

know  his  own  name,  and  will  probably  be  re- 
placed in  an  asylum  if  he's  identified,  there  isn't 
much  encouragement  for  greeting  old  friends. 
And  do  you  remember  my  search  for  a  name  in 
the  hotel  at  St.  Egbert's?" 

"Yah — zat  is,  yes." 

"  It  was  for  my  own  I  was  looking." 

"You  found  it  not?" 

"  No.  The  worst  of  it  is,  I  can't  even  remem- 
ber what  letter  it  began  with.  Sometimes  I 
think  it  was  M,  or  perhaps  N,  and  sometimes 
I'm  almost  sure  it  was  E.  It  will  come  to  me 
some  day,  no  doubt,  Baron,  but  till  it  does  I  shall 
have  to  wander  about  a  nameless  man,  looking 
for  it.  And  after  all,  I  am  not  without  the  con- 
solations of  a  certain  useful,  workaday  kind  of 
philosophy." 

He  rose  from  the  bed  and  smiled  humorously 
at  his  friend. 

"And  now,  Baron,"  he  said,  "it only  remains 
to  offer  you  such  thanks  and  apologies  as  a  luna- 
tic may,  and  then  clear  out  before  the  cock  crows. 
These  are  my  brushes,  I  think." 

There  was  still  something  on  the  Baron's  mind: 
he  la^y  for  a  moment  watching  Mr.  Bunker  collect 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        249 

a  few  odds  and  ends  and  put  them  rapidly  into  a 
small  bag,  and  then  blurted  out  suddenly,  "Ze 
Lady  Alicia — do  you  loff  her?" 

"By  Jove! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bunker,  "  I'd  for- 
gotten all  about  her.  I  ought  to  have  told  you 
that  I  once  met  her  before,  when  she  showed 
sympathy — practical  sympathy,  I  may  add — for 
an  unfortunate  gentleman  in  Clankwood.  That's 
all." 

"  You  do  not  loff  her  ?"  persisted  the  Baron. 

"I,  my  dear  chap?  No.  You  are  most  wel- 
come to  her — and  the  Countess." 

"  Does  she  not  loff  you  ?  " 

"On  my  honor,  no.  I  told  her  a  few  early  rem- 
iniscences; she  happened  to  discover  they  were 
not  what  is  generally  known  as  true,  and  took  so 
absurd  a  view  of  the  case  that  I  doubt  whether 
she  would  speak  to  me  again  if  she  met  me.  In 
fact,  Baron,  if  I  read  the  omens  aright — and  I've 
had  some  experience — you  only  need  courage  and 
a  voice." 

The  bed  creaked,  there  was  a  volcanic  up- 
heaval of  the  clothes  as  the  Baron  sprang  out  on 
to  the  floor,  and  the  next  instant  Mr.  Bunker  was 
clasped  in  his  embrace. 


250        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Ach,  my  own  Bonker,  forgif  me!  I  haf 
suspected,  I  haf  not  been  ze  true  friend;  you 
have  sairved  me  right  to  gom  here  as  ze  Baron. 
/  vas  too  bad  a  Baron  to  gom !  You  have  amused 
me,  you  have  instrogted,  you  have  varmed  my 
heart.  My  dear  frient!" 

To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Bunker  looked,  for  the 
first  time  in  their  acquaintance,  a  little  ill  at  ease. 
He  laughed,  but  it  sounded  affected. 

"My  dear  fellow — hang  it!  You'd  make  me 
out  a  martyr.  As  a  matter-of-fact,  I've  been 
such  a  thorn  as  very  few  people  would  stand  in 
their  flesh.  There's  nothing  to  forgive,  my  dear 
Baron,  and  a  lot  to  thank  you  for." 

"I  haf  been  rude,  Bonker;  I  haf  insulted  you! 
You  forgif  me  ?  " 

"With  all  my  heart,  if  you  think  it's  needed, 
but " 

"  And  you  vill  not  go  now  ?  You  vill  stay 
here  ?  " 

"What,  two  Barons  at  once  ?  My  dear  chap, 
we'd  merely  confuse  the  butler." 

"Ach,  you  vill  joke,  you  hombog!  But  you 
most  stay ! " 

"  And  what  about  my  friend,  Dr.  Escott  ?    No, 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        251 

Baron,  it  would  only  mean  breakfast  and  the 
next  train  to  Clankwood." 

"Zey  vill  not  take  you  ven  you  tell  zem!  I 
shall  insist  viz  Sir  Richard!  " 

"  The  law  is  the  law,  Baron,  and  I'm  a  certified 
lunatic.  Here  we  must  part  till  the  weather 
clears;  and  mind,  you  mustn't  say  a  word  about 
my  coming  to  see  you." 

The  Baron  looked  at  him  disconsolately. 

"You  most  really  go,  Bonker  ?" 

"Really,  Baron." 

"And  vere  to  ?" 

"To  London  town  again  by  the  milk  train." 

"  And  vat  vill  you  do  zere  ?  " 

"  Look  for  my  name." 

"Bothow?" 

Mr.  Bunker  hesitated. 

"I  have  a  little  clue,"  he  said  at  last,  "  only  a 
thread,  but  I'll  try  it  for  what  it's  worth." 

"  Haf  you  money  enoff  ?  " 

"Thanks  to  your  generosity  and  my  skill  at 
billiards,  yes,  which  reminds  me  that  I  must 
return  poor  Trelawney's  ten  pounds  some  day. 
At  present,  I  can't  afford  to  be  scrupulous.  So, 
you  see,  I'm  provided  for." 


252        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Cigars  at  least,  Bonker!  You  most  smoke, 
my  frient  vizout  a  name!  " 

The  Baron,  night-shirted  and  barefooted  as  he 
was,  dived  into  his  portmanteau  :md  produced  a 
large  box  of  cigars. 

"You  like  zese,  Bonker.  Zey  are  your  own 
choice.  Smoke  zem  and  sink  of  me!  " 

"A  few,  Baron,  would  be  a  pleasant  reminis- 
cence," said  his  friend,  with  a  smile,  "if  you 
really  insist." 

"All,  Bonker, — I  vill  not  keep  vun!  I  can  get 
more.  No,  you  most  take  zem  all!  " 

Mr.  Bunker  opened  his  bag  and  put  in  the  box 
without  a  word. 

"You  most  write,"  said  the  Baron,  "tell  me 
vere  you  are.  I  shall  not  tell  any  soul,  bot  ven  I 
can,  I  shall  gom  up,  and  ve  shall  sup  togezzer 
vunce  more.  Pairhaps  ve  may  haf  anozzer  ad- 
venture, ha,  ha!" 

The  Baron's  laugh  was  almost  too  hearty  to  be 
true. 

"  I  shall  let  you  know,  as  soon  as  I  find  a  room. 
It  won't  be  in  the  Mayonaise  this  time!  Good- 
bye: good  sport  and  luck  in  love! " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        253 

"Good-bye,  my  frient,  good-bye,"  said  the 
Baron,  squeezing  his  hand. 

His  friend  was  half  out  of  the  door,  when  he 
turned,  and  said  with  an  intonation  quite  foreign 
either  to  Beveridge  or  Bunker,  and  yet  which 
came  very  pleasantly,  "I  forgot  to  warn  you  of 
one  thing  when  I  advised  you  to  try  the  role  of 
certified  lunatic — you  are  not  likely  to  make  so 
good  a  friend  as  I  have." 

He  shut  the  door  noiselessly  and  was  gone. 

The  Baron  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  for 
fully  five  minutes,  looking  blankly  at  the  closed 
door;  then  with  a  sigh  he  turned  out  the  light  and 
tumbled  into  bed  again. 


PART  IV 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Dover  express  was  nearing  town:  evening 
had  begun  to  draw  in,  and  from  the  wayside 
houses  people  saw  the  train  roar  by  like  a  huge 
glowworm;  but  they  could  hardly  guess  that  it 
was  hurrying  two  real  actors  to  the  climax  of  a 
real  comedy. 

From  the  opposite  sides  of  a  first-class  carriage 
these  two  looked  cheerfully  at  one  another.  The 
Channel  was  safely  behind  them,  London  was 
close  ahead,  and  the  piston  of  the  engine  seemed 
to  thump  a  triumphal  air. 

"We've  done  it,  Twiddel,  my  boy!  "  said  the 
one. 

"  Thank  heaven!  "  replied  the  other. 

"And  myself,"  added  his  friend. 

"Yes,"  said  Twiddel;  "you  played  your    art 
uncommonly  well,  Welsh." 
254 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        255 

"It  was  the  deuce  of  a  fine  spree!"  sighed 
Welsh. 

"  The  deuce,"  assented  Twiddel. 

"  I'm  only  sorry  it's  all  over,"  Welsh  went  on, 
gazing  regretfully  up  at  the  lamp  of  the  carriage. 
"  I'd  give  the  remains  of  my  character  and  my 
chance  of  a  public  funeral  to  be  starting  again 
from  Paris  by  the  morning  train !  " 

Twiddel  laughed. 

"With  the  same  head  you  had  that  morn- 
ing ?  " 

"Yes,  by  George!  Even  with  the  same  mile 
of  dusty  gullet!" 

"  It's  all  over  now,"  said  Twiddel,  philosophic- 
ally, and  yet  rather  nervously  —  "at  least  the 
amusing  part  of  it." 

"All  the  fun,  my  boy,  all  the  fun.  AH  the 
dinners  and  the  drinks,  and  the  touching  of  hats 
to  the  aristocratic  travelers,  and  the  girls  that 
sighed,  and  the  bowing  and  scraping.  Do  you 
remember  the  sporting  baronet  who  knew  my 
uncle  ?  Now,  I'm  plain  Robert  Welsh,  whose 
uncles,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  don't  know  a  baro- 
net among  'em." 

He  smiled  a  little  sardonically. 


256        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  And  the  baron  at  Fogelschloss,"  said  Twiddel. 

"Who  insisted  on  learning  my  pedigree  back 
to  Alfred  the  Great!  Gad,  I  gave  it  him,  though, 
and  I  doubt  whether  the  real  Essington  could  have 
done  as  much.  I'd  rather  surprise  some  of  these 
noblemen  if  I  turned  up  again  in  my  true  char- 
acter!" 

"Thank  the  Lord,  we're  not  likely  to  meet 
them  again!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  devoutly. 

"No,"  said  Welsh;  "here  endeth  the  second 
lesson." 

His  friend,  who  had  been  well  brought  up, 
looked  a  trifle  uncomfortable  at  this  quotation. 

"I  say,"  he  remarked  a  few  minutes  later, 
"  we  haven't  finished  yet.  We've  got  to  get  the 
man  out  again,  and  hand  him  back  to  his  friends." 

"  Cured,"  said  Welsh,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  is  ?  " 

"  We'll  soon  see." 

They  fell  silent  again,  while  the  train  hurried 
nearer  and  nearer  London  town.  Welsh  seemed 
to  be  musing  on  some  nice  point,  it  might  be  of 
conscience,  it  might  also  conceivably  be  of  a  more 
practical  texture.  At  last  he  said,  "  There's  just 
one  thing,  old  man.  What  about  the  fee  ?" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE       257 

"I'll  get  a  check  for  it,  I  suppose,"  his  friend 
replied,  with  an  almost  excessive  air  of  mastery 
over  the  problem. 

"  Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Welsh;  "you  know  what 
I  mean.  It's  a  delicate  question  and  all  that,  but, 
hang  it,  it's  got  to  be  answered." 

"What  has?" 

"  The  division  of  the  spoil." 

Twiddel  looked  dignified. 

"  I'll  see  you  get  your  share,  old  man,"  he  an- 
swered, easily. 

"But  what  share  ?" 

"You  suggested  ;£ioo,  I  think." 

"  Out  of  ;£  500— when  I've  done  all  the  de- 
ceiving and  told  all  the  lies!  Come,  old  man!" 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

"  Do  you  remember  a  certain  crisis  when  we'd 
iiade  a  slip " 

"You'd  made  a  slip!  " 

"  We  had  made  a  slip,  and  you  wanted  to 
chuck  the  game  and  bolt  ?  Do  you  remember 
also  the  terms  I  proposed  when  I  offered  to  beard 
the  local  god  almighty  in  his  lair  and  explain  it 
all  away,  and  how  he  became  our  bosom  pal  and 
we  were  saved  ?  " 


258        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Well?" 

",£300  to  me,  jC,2oo  to  you,"  said  Welsh,  de- 
cisively. 

"  Rot,  old  man.  I'll  share  fairly,  if  you  insist. 
^250  apiece,  will  that  do  ?  " 

Welsh  said  nothing,  but  his  face  was  no  longer 
the  countenance  of  the  jovial  adventurer. 

"It  will  have  to,  I  suppose,"  he  replied,  at 
length. 

It  was  with  this  little  cloud  on  the  horizon  that 
they  saw  the  lights  of  London  twinkle  through 
the  windows,  and  were  carried  into  the  clamor 
of  the  platforms. 

They  both  drove  first  to  Twiddel's  rooms;  and 
as  they  looked  out  once  more  on  the  life  and  lights 
and  traffic  of  the  streets,  their  faces  cleared  again. 

"  We'll  have  a  merry  evening! "  cried  Welsh. 

"A  little  supper,"  suggested  Twiddel;  "a 
music-hall " 

"Et  cetera,"  added  Welsh,  with  a  laugh. 

The  doctor  had  written  of  their  coming,  and 
they  found  a  fire  in  the  back  room,  and  the  table 
laid. 

"Ah,"  cried  Welsh,  "this  looks  devilish  com- 
fortable." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE      250 

"A  letter  for  me,"  said  Twiddel;  "from  Bill- 
son,  I  think." 

He  read  it  and  threw  it  to  his  friend,  remark- 
ing, "  I  call  this  rather  cool  of  him." 

Welsh  read  — 

"  DEAR  GEORGE  :  I  am  just  off  for  three  weeks' 
holiday.  Sorry  for  leaving  your  practice,  but  I 
think  it  can  look  after  itself  till  you  return. 

"You  have  only  had  two  patients,  and  one  fee 
between  them.  The  second  man  vanished  mys- 
teriously. I  shall  tell  you  about  it  when  I  come 
back.  He  boned  a  bill  too,  I  fancy,  but  the  story 
will  keep. 

"  I  am  looking  forward  to  hearing  the  true  tale 
of  your  adventures.  Good  luck  to  you. — Yours 
ever,  THOMAS  BILLSON." 

"Boned  a  bill?"  exclaimed  Welsh.  "What 
bill,  I  wonder?" 

"  Something  that  came  when  I  was  away,  I 
suppose.  Hang  it,  I  think  Billson  might  have 
looked  after  things  better!" 

"It  sounds  queer,"  said  Welsh,  reflectively; 
"  1  wonder  what  it  was  ?" 

"  Confound  Billson,  he  might  have  told  me," 


260        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

observed  the  doctor.  "  But,  I  say,  you  know  we 
have  something  more  practical  to  see  to." 

"  Getting  the  man  out  again  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  let's  have  a  little  grub  first." 

Twiddel  rang  the  bell,  and  the  frowsy  little 
maid  entered,  carrying  a  letter  on  a  tray. 

"  Dinner,"  said  he. 

"  Please,  sir,"  began  the  maid,  holding  out  the 
tray,  "this  come  for  you  near  a  month  agow, 
but  Missis  she  bin  and  forgot  to  send  it  hafter 
you." 

"Confound  her!"  said  Twiddel,  taking  the 
letter. 

He  looked  at  the  envelope,  and  remarked  with 
a  little  start  of  nervous  excitement,  "  From  Dr. 
Congleton." 

"News  of  Mr.  Beveridge,"  laughed  Welsh. 

The  doctor  read  the  first  few  lines,  and  then, 
as  if  he  had  got  an  electric  shock,  the  letter  fell 
from  his  hand,  and  an  expression  of  the  most 
utter  and  lively  consternation  came  over  his  face. 

"  Heavens!  "  he  ejaculated,  "  it's  all  up." 

"What's  up? "cried  Welsh,  snatching  at  the 
letter. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        261 

"  He's  run  away!  " 

Welsh  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  some 
astonishment,  and  then  burst  out  laughing. 

"  What  a  joke!  "  he  cried;  "  I  don't  see  any- 
thing to  make  a  fuss  about.  We're  jolly  well  rid 
of  him." 

"The  fee!  I  won't  get  a  penny  till  I  bring 
him  back.  And  the  whole  thing  will  be  found 
out! " 

As  the  full  meaning  of  this  predicament  burst 
upon  Welsh,  his  face  underwent  a  change  by  no 
means  pleasant  to  watch.  For  a  full  minute  he 
swore,  and  then  an  ominous  silence  fell  upon  the 
room. 

Twiddel  was  the  first  to  recover  himself. 

"Let  me  see  the  letter,"  he  said;  "I  haven't 
finished  it." 

Welsh  read  it  aloud  — 

"DEAR  TWIDDEL:  I  regret  to  inform  you  that 
the  patient,  Francis  Beveridge,  whom  you  placed 
under  my  care,  has  escaped  from  Clankwood. 
We  have  made  every  inquiry  consistent  with 
strict  privacy,  but  unfortunately  have  not  yet 
been  able  to  lay  our  hands  upon  him.  We  only 
know  that  he  left  Ashditch  Junction  in  the  Lon- 


262        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

don  express,  and  was  seen  walking  out  of  St. 
Euston's  Cross.  How  he  has  been  able  to  main- 
tain himself  in  concealment  without  money  or 
clothes,  1  am  unable  to  imagine. 

"As  no  inquiries  have  been  made  for  him  by 
his  cousin  Mr.  Welsh,  or  any  other  of  his  friends 
or  relatives,  I  am  writing  to  you  that  you  may  in- 
form them,  and  I  hope  that  this  letter  may  fol- 
low you  abroad  without  delay.  I  may  add  that 
the  circumstances  of  his  escape  showed  most  un- 
usual cunning,  and  could  not  possibly  have  been 
guarded  against. 

"Trusting  that  you  are  having  a  pleasant  holi- 
day, I  am, 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

"ADOLPHUS  S.    CONGLETON." 

The  two  looked  at  one  another  in  silence  for  a 
minute,  and  then  Welsh  said,  fiercely,  "You 
must  catch  him  again,  Twiddel.  Do  you  think 
I  am  going  to  have  all  my  risk  and  trouble  for 
nothing?" 

"/  must  catch  him!  Do  you  suppose  /  let 
him  loose?" 

"You  must  catch  him,  all  the  same." 

"I  shan't  bother  my  head  about  him,"  an- 
swered Twiddel,  with  the  recklessness  of  despair. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        263 

"You  won't?  You  want  to  have  the  story 
known,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is." 

Welsh  looked  at  him  for  a  minute:  then  he 
jumped  up  and  exclaimed,  "You  need  a  drink, 
old  man.  Let's  hurry  up  that  slavey." 

With  the  first  course  their  countenances  cleared 
a  little,  with  the  second  they  were  almost  com- 
posed, by  the  end  of  dinner  they  had  started 
plot-hatching  hopefully  again. 

"It's  any  odds  on  the  man's  still  being  in 
town,"  said  Welsh.  "He  had  no  money  or 
clothes,  and  evidently  he  hasn't  gone  to  any 
of  his  friends,  or  the  whole  story  would  have 
been  out.  Now,  there  is  nowhere  where  a  man 
can  lie  low  so  well,  especially  if  he  is  hard  up, 
as  London.  I  can  answer  from  experience.  He 
is  hardly  likely  to  be  in  the  West  End,  or  the 
best  class  of  suburbs,  so  we've  something  to  go 
upon  at  once.  We  must  go  to  a  private  inquiry 
office  and  put  men  on  his  track,  and  then  we 
must  take  the  town  in  beats  ourselves.  So  much 
is  clear;  do  you  see  ?" 

"  And  hadn't  we  better  find  out  whether  any- 
thing more  is  known  at  Clankwood  ?  "  suggested 


264        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Twiddel.  "Dr.  Congleton  wrote  a  month  ago; 
perhaps  they  have  caught  him  by  this  time." 

"Hardly  likely,  I'm  afraid;  he'd  have  written 
to  you  if  they  had.  Still,  we  can  but  ask." 

"But,  I  say!"  the  doctor  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"people  may  find  out  that  I'm  back  without 
him." 

Welsh  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"You  must  leave  again  at  once,"  he  said  de- 
cisively, rising  from  the  table;  "and  there's  no 
good  wasting  time,  either." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  bewildered 
doctor,  who  had  not  yet  assimilated  the  criminal 
point  of  view. 

"We'll  put  our  luggage  straight  on  to  a  cab, 
drive  off  to  other  rooms — I  know  a  cheap  place 
that  will  do — and  if  by  any  chance  inquiries  are 
made,  people  must  be  told  that  you  are  still 
abroad.  Nobody  must  hear  of  your  coming 
home  to-night." 

"Is  it "  began  Twiddel,  dubiously. 

"Is  it  what?"  snapped  his  friend. 

"Is  it  worth  it?" 

"Is  ^500,  not  to  speak  of  two  reputations, 
worth  it!  Come  on!" 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        265 

The  unfortunate  doctor  sighed,  and  rose  too. 
He  was  beginning  to  think  that  the  nefarious 
acquisition  of  fees  might  have  drawbacks  af- 
ter all. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  chronicle  must  now  go  back  a  few  days 
and  follow  another  up-express. 

"I  must  either  be  a  clergyman  or  a  police- 
man," Mr.  Bunker  reflected,  in  the  corner  of  his 
carriage;  "they  seem  to  me  to  be  on  the  whole 
the  two  least  molested  professions.  Each  cer- 
tainly has  a  livery  which,  if  its  occupier  is 
ordinarily  judicious,  ought  to  serve  as  a  certifi- 
cate of  sanity.  To  me  all  policemen  are  precisely 
alike,  but  I  dare  say  they  know  them  apart  in  the 
force,  and  as  all  the  beats  and  crossings  are 
presumably  taken  already,  I  might  excite  sus- 
picion by  my  mere  superfluity.  Besides,  a 
theatrical  costumier's  uniform  would  possibly 
lack  some  ridiculous  but  essential  detail." 

He  lit  another  cigar  and  looked  humorously 
out  of  the  window. 

"I  shall  take  orders.  An  amateur  theatrical 
clergyman's  costume  will  be  more  comfortable, 
and  probably  less  erroneous.  They  allow  them 

some  latitude,   I  believe;   and  I  don't  suppose 
it* 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        267 

there  are  any  visible  ordination  scars  whose 
absence  would  give  me  away.  I  shall  certainly 
study  the  first  reverend  brother  I  meet  to 
see." 

Thus  wisely  ruminating,  he  arrived  in  London 
at  a  very  early  hour  on  a  chilly  morning,  and 
drove  straight  to  a  small  hotel  near  King's  Cross, 
where  the  landlord  was  much  gratified  at  receiv- 
ing so  respectable  a  guest  as  the  Rev.  Alexander 
Butler.  ("I  must  begin  with  a  B,"  said  Mr. 
Bunker  to  himself;  "  I  think  it's  lucky.") 

It  is  true  the  reverend  gentleman  was  in  even- 
ing clothes,  while  his  hat  and  coat  had  a 
singularly  secular,  not  to  say  fashionable,  ap- 
pearance; but,  as  he  mentioned  casually  in  the 
course  of  some  extremely  affable  remarks,  he 
had  been  dining  in  a  country  house,  and  had  not 
thought  it  worth  while  changing  before  he  left. 
After  breakfasting  he  dressed  himself  in  an 
equally  secular  suit  of  tweeds  and  went  out, 
he  mentioned  incidentally,  to  call  at  his  tailor's 
for  his  professional  habit,  which  he  seemed  sur- 
prised to  learn  had  not  yet  been  forwarded  to 
the  hotel. 

A  viiit  to  a  certain  well-known  firm  of  thaat- 


268        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

ncal  costumiers  was  followed  by  his  reappearance 
in  a  cab  accompanied  by  a  bulky  brown  paper 
parcel;  and  presently  he  emerged  from  his  room 
attired  more  consistently  with  his  office,  much 
to  his  own  satisfaction,  for,  as  he  observed,  "I 
cannot  say  I  approve  of  clergymen  masquerad- 
ing as  laymen." 

His  opinion  on  the  converse  circumstance  was 
not  expressed. 

Much  to  his  landlord's  disappointment,  he 
informed  him  that  he  should  probably  leave 
again  that  afternoon,  and  then  he  went  out 
for  a  walk. 

About  half  an  hour  later  he  was  once  more 
in  the  street  where,  not  so  very  long  ago,  a 
very  exciting  cab-race  had  finished.  He  strolled 
slowly  past  Dr.  Twiddel's  house.  The  blinds  of 
the  front  room  were  down;  at  that  hour  there 
was  no  sign  of  life  about  it,  and  he  saw  nothing 
at  all  to  arrest  his  attention.  Then  he  looked 
down  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  to  his 
great  satisfaction  spied  a  card,  with  the  legend 
"Apartments  to  let,"  in  one  of  the  first-floor 
windows  of  a  house  immediately  opposite. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  in  a  moment  a  rotund 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        269 

and  loquacious  landlady  appeared.  Yes,  the 
drawing-room  was  to  let;  would  the  reverend 
gentleman  come  up  and  see  it  ?  Mr.  Bunker 
went  up,  and  approved.  They  readily  agreed 
upon  terms,  and  the  landlady,  charmed  with  her 
new  lodger's  appearance  and  manners,  no  less 
than  with  the  respectability  of  his  profession, 
proceeded  to  descant  at  some  length  on  the 
quiet,  comfort,  and  numerous  other  advantages 
of  the  apartments. 

"Just  the  very  plice  you  wants,  sir.  We  'ave 
'ad  clerical  gentlemen  'ere  before,  sir;  in  fact, 
there's  one  a-staying  'ere  now,  second  floor, — 
you  may  know  of  'im,  sir, — the  Reverend  Mr. 
John  Duggs;  a  very  pleasant  gentleman  you'll 
find  him,  sir.  I'll  tell  'im  you're  'ere,  sir;  'e'd  be 
sure  to  like  to  meet  another  gentleman  of  the 
syme  cloth,  has  they  say." 

Somehow  or  other  the  Rev.  Mr.  Butler  failed 
to  display  the  hearty  pleasure  at  this  announce- 
ment that  the  worthy  Mrs.  Gabbon  had  naturally 
expected. 

Aloud  he  merely  said  "Indeed,"  politely,  but 
with  no  unusual  interest. 

Within  himself  he  reflected,  "  The  deuce  take 


270        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

Mr.  John  Duggs!     However,  I  want  the  rooms, 
and  a  man  must  risk  something." 

As  a  precautionary  measure  he  visited  a 
second-hand  bookseller  on  his  way  back,  and 
purchased  a  small  assortment  of  the  severest- 
looking  works  on  theology  they  kept  in  stock; 
and  these,  with  his  slender  luggage,  he  brought 
round  to  Mrs.  Gabbon's  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon. 

He  looked  carefully  out  of  his  sitting-room 
window,  but  the  doctor's  blinds  were  still  down, 
and  he  saw  no  one  coming  or  going  about  the 
house;  so  he  began  his  inquiries  by  calling  up  his 
landlady. 

"  I  have  been  troubled  with  lumbago,  Mrs. 
Gabbon,"  he  began. 

"Dearie  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gabbon,  "I'm 
sorry  to  'ear  that;  you  that  looks  so  'ealthy  too! 
Well,  one  never  knows  what's  be'ind  a  'appy 
hexterior,  does  one,  sir  ?  " 

"No,  Mrs.  Gabbon,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  sol 
emnly;  "one  never  knows  what  even  a  clergy- 
man's coat  conceals." 

"  That's  very  true,  sir.  In  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in " 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        271 

'Lumbago,"  interposed  Mr.  Bunker. 

Mrs.  Gabbon  looked  a  trifle  startled. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  with  the  same  gravity, 
'•  I  may  unfortunately  have  occasion  to  consult  a 
doctor " 

"  There's  Dr.  Smith,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Gab* 
bon,  her  equanimity  quite  restored  by  his  eccle- 
siastical tone  and  the  mention  of  ailments;  "  'e 
attended  my  pore  dear  'usband  hall  through  his 
last  illness;  an  huncommon  clever  doctor,  sir,  as 
I  ought  to  know,  sir,  bein' " 

"No  doubt  an  excellent  man,  Mrs.  Gabbon; 
but  I  should  like  to  know  of  one  as  near  at  hand 
as  possible.  Now  I  see  the  name  of  a  Dr. 
Twiddel " 

"I  wouldn't  recommend  'im,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Gabbon,  pursing  her  mouth. 

"Indeed?    Why  not?" 

"  'E  attended  Mrs.  Brown's  servant  girl,  sir, — 
she  bein'  the  lady  as  has  the  'ouse  next  door, — 
and  what  he  give  'er  didn't  do  no  good.  Mrs. 
Brown  tell  me  'erself." 

"  Still,  in  an  emergency " 

"  Beside  which,  he  ain't  at  'ome,  sir." 

"  Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 


272        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

"Abroad,  they  do  say,  sir;  though  I  don't 
rightly  know  much  about  'im." 

"  Has  he  been  away  long?" 

Mrs.  Gabbon  considered. 

"  It  must  'ave  bin  before  the  middle  of  Novem- 
ber he  went,  sir." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bunker,  keenly,  though 
apparently  more  to  himself  than  his  landlady. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir?" 

"The  middle  of  November,  you  say?  That's 
a  long  holiday  for  a  doctor  to  take." 

"'E  'aven't  no  practice  to  speak  of, — not  as  I 
knows  of,  leastways." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  he — young  or  old  ?" 

"By  my  opinion,  sir,  'e's  too  young.  I  don't 
'old  by  them  young  doctors.  Now  Dr.  Smith, 
sir " 

"  Dr.  Twiddel  is  quite  a  young  man,  then  ?" 

"What  I'd  call  little  better  than  a  boy,  sir. 
They  tell  me  they  lets  'em  loose  very  young  now- 
adays." 

"  About  twenty-five,  say  ?" 

"  'E  might  be  that,  sir;  but  I  don't  know  much 
about  'im,  sir.  Now  Dr.  Smith,  sir,  'e's  dif- 
ferent." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        273 

In  fact  at  this  point  Mrs.  Gabbon  showed  such 
a  tendency  to  turn  the  conversation  back  to  the 
merits  of  Dr.  Smith  and  the  precise  nature  of  Mr. 
Bunker's  ailment,  that  her  lodger,  in  despair,  re- 
quested her  to  bring  up  a  cup  of  tea  as  speedily 
as  possible. 

"  Before  the  middle  of  November,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  It  is  certainly  a  curious  coincidence." 

To  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Bunker's  sociable  habits 
and  active  mind,  the  prospect  of  sitting  day  by 
day  in  the  company  of  his  theological  treatises 
and  talkative  landlady,  and  watching  an  ap- 
parently uninhabited  house,  seemed  at  first  sight 
even  less  entertaining  than  a  return  to  Clank- 
wood.  But,  as  he  said  of  himself,  he  possessed 
a  kind  of  easy  workaday  philosophy,  and,  besides 
that,  an  apparently  irresistible  attraction  for  the 
incidents  of  life. 

He  had  barely  finished  his  cup  of  tea,  and  was 
sitting  over  the  fire  smoking  one  of  the  Baron's 
cigars  and  looking  through  one  of  the  few  books 
he  had  brought  that  bore  no  relation  to  divinity, 
his  feet  high  upon  the  side  of  the  mantelpiece,  his 
ready-made  costume  perhaps  a  little  more  un- 
buttoned than  the  strictest  propriety  might  ap- 


prove,  and  a  stiff  glass  of  whiskey-and-water  dt 
his  elbow,  when  there  came  a  rap  at  his  door. 

In  response  to  his  "Come  in,"  a  middle-aged 
gentleman,  dressed  in  clerical  attire,  entered.  He 
had  a  broad,  bearded  face,  a  dull  eye,  and  an  in- 
describably average  aspect. 

"  The  devil !  Mr.  John  Duggs  himself,"  thought 
Mr.  Bunker,  hastily  adopting  a  more  conventional 
attitude  and  feeling  for  his  buttonholes. 

"Ah — er — Mr.  Butler,  I  believe?"  said  the 
stranger,  with  an  apologetic  air. 

"The  same,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  smiling  af- 
fably. 

"I,"  continued  his  visitor,  advancing  with 
more  confidence,  "  am  Mr.  Duggs.  I  am  dwell- 
ing at  present  in  the  apartment  immediately  above 
you,  and  hearing  of  the  arrival  of  a  fellow  cler- 
gyman, through  my  worthy  friend  Mrs.  Gabbon, 
I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  calling.  She  gave  me 
to  understand  that  you  were  not  undesirous  of 
making  my  acquaintance,  Mr.  Butler." 

"The  deuce,  she  did!"  thought  Mr.  Butler. 
Aloud  he  answered  most  politely,  "  I  am  hon- 
ored, Mr.  Duggs.  Won't  you  sit  down  ?" 

First  casting  a  wary  eye  upon  a  chair,  Mr. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        2T5 

Duggs  seated  himself  carefully  on  the  edge 
of  it. 

"It  is  quite  evident,"  thought  Mr.  Bunker, 
"that  he  has  spotted  something  wrong.  I  be- 
lieve a  bobby  would  have  been  safer  after  all." 

He  assumed  the  longest  face  he  could  draw, 
and  remarked  sententiously,  "The  weather  has 
been  unpleasantly  cold  of  late,  Mr.  Duggs." 

He  flattered  himself  that  his  guest  seemed  in- 
stantly more  at  his  ease.  Certainly  he  replied 
with  as  much  cordiality  as  a  man  with  such  a 
dull  eye  could  be  disposed  to  display. 

"It  has,  Mr.  Butler;  in  fact  I  have  suffered 
from  a  chill  for  some  weeks.  Ahem ! " 

"  Have  something  to  drink,"  suggested  Mr. 
Bunker,  sympathetically.  "I'm  trying  a  little 
whiskey  myself,  as  a  cure  for  cold." 

"  1 — ah — I  am  sorry.     I  do  not  touch  spirits." 

"  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Too 
few  of  our  clergymen  nowadays  support  the 
cause  of  temperance  by  example." 

Mr.  Bunker  felt  a  little  natural  pride  in  this  hap- 
pily expressed  sentiment,  but  his  visitor  merely 
turned  his  cold  eye  on  the  whiskey  bottle,  and 
breathed  heavily. 


276        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Confound  him!  "  he  thought;  "I'll  give  him 
something  to  snort  at  if  he  is  going  to  conduct 
himself  like  this." 

"  Have  a  cigar?"  he  asked  aloud. 

Mr.  Duggs  seemed  to  regard  the  cigar-box  a 
little  less  unkindly  than  the  whiskey  bottle;  but 
after  a  careful  look  at  it  he  replied,  "I  am  afraid 
they  seem  a  little  too  strong  for  me.  I  am  a 
light  smoker,  Mr.  Butler." 

"Really,"  smiled  Mr.  Bunker;  "so  many  vir- 
tues in  one  room  reminds  me  of  the  virgins  of 
Gomorrah." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  The  what  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Duggs,  with  a  startled  stare. 

Mr.  Bunker  suspected  that  he  had  made  a  slip 
in  his  biblical  reminiscences,  but  he  continued  to 
smile  imperturbably,  and  inquired  with  a  perfect 
air  of  surprise,  "  Haven't  you  read  the  novel  I  re- 
ferred to  ?  " 

Mr.  Duggs  appeared  a  little  relieved,  but  he  an- 
swered blankly  enough,  "I — ah — have  not. 
What  is  the  book  you  refer  to  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  you  know?  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
forget  the  title.  It's  by  a  somewhat  well-known 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        277 

fady  writer  of  religious  fiction.  A  Miss — her 
name  escapes  me  at  this  moment." 

In  fact,  as  Mr.  Bunker  had  no  idea  how  long 
his  friend  might  be  dwelling  in  the  apartment 
immediately  above  him,  he  thought  it  more 
prudent  to  make  no  statement  that  could  possibly 
be  checked. 

"  I  am  no  great  admirer  of  religious  fiction  of 
any  kind,"  replied  Mr.  Duggs,  "  particularly  that 
written  by  emotional  females." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  pleasantly;  "I  should 
imagine  your  own  doctrines  were  not  apt  to  err 
on  the  sentimental  side." 

"I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  said  anything  to 
you  about  my — doctrines,  as  you  call  them,  Mr. 
Butler." 

"Still,  don't  you  think  one  can  generally  tell  a 
man's  creed  from  his  coat,  and  his  sympathies 
from  the  way  he  cocks  his  hat  ?  " 

"I  think,"  replied  Mr.  Duggs,  "  that  our  ideas 
of  our  vocation  are  somewhat  different." 

"Mine  is,  I  admit,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  who  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  strain  of  playing 
his  part  was  really  too  great,  and  was  now  being 
happily  carried  along  by  his  tongue. 


278        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

Mr.  Duggs  for  a  moment  was  evidently  dis- 
posed to  give  battle,  but  thinking  better  of  it, 
he  contented  himself  with  frowning  at  his 
younger  opponent,  and  abruptly  changed  the 
subject. 

"  May  I  ask  what  position  you  hold  in  the 
church,  Mr.  Butler?" 

"Why,"  began  Mr.  Bunker,  lightly:  it  was  on 
the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say  "a  clergyman,  of 
course,"  when  he  suddenly  recollected  that  he 
might  be  anything  from  the  rank  of  curate  up  to 
the  people  who  wear  gaiters  (and  who  these 
were  precisely  he  didn't  know).  An  ingenious 
solution  suggested  itself.  He  replied  with  a  pre- 
liminary inquiry,  "Have  you  ever  been  in  the 
East,  Mr.  Duggs  ?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say  I  have  not  hitherto  had  the  op- 
portunity." 

"Thank  the  Lord  for  that,"  thought  Mr. 
Bunker.  "  I  have  been  a  missionary,"  he  said 
quietly,  and  looked  dreamily  into  the  fire. 

It  was  a  happy  move.  Mr.  Duggs  was  visibly 
impressed. 

"Ah?"  he  said.  "Indeed?  I  am  much  in- 
terested to  learn  this,  Mr.  Butler.  It — ah — gives 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        279 

me  perhaps  a  somewhat  different  view  of  your — 
ah — opinions.  Where  did  your  work  lie  ?" 

"  China,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  thinking  it  best 
to  keep  as  far  abroad  as  possible. 

"  Ha!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Duggs.  "  This  is  really 
extremely  fortunate.  I  am  at  present,  Mr.  But- 
ler, studying  the  religions  and  customs  of  China 
at  the  British  Museum,  with  a  view  to  going  out 
there  myself  very  shortly.  I  already  feel  I  know 
almost  as  much  about  that  most  interesting 
country  as  if  1  had  lived  there.  I  should  like  to 
talk  with  you  at  some  length  on  the  subject." 

Mr.  Bunker  saw  that  it  was  time  to  put  an  end 
to  this  conversation,  at  whatever  minor  risk  of 
perturbing  his  visitor.  He  had  been  a  little 
alarmed,  too,  by  noticing  that  Mr.  Duggs'  dull  eye 
had  wandered  frequently  to  his  theological 
library,  which  with  his  usual  foresight  he  had 
strewn  conspicuously  on  the  table,  and  that  any 
expression  it  had  was  rather  of  suspicious  curios- 
ity than  gratification. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  some  of  your  expe- 
riences," Mr.  Duggs  continued.  "In  what 
province  did  you  work  ?" 

"In    Hung  Hang  Ho,"  replied  Mr.   Bunker. 


280        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

His  visitor  looked  puzzled,  but  he  continued 
boldly,  "My  experiences  were  somewhat  un- 
pleasant. I  became  engaged  to  a  mandarin's 
daughter — a  charming  girl.  I  was  suspected, 
however,  of  abetting  an  illicit  traffic  in  Chinese 
lanterns.  My  companions  were  manicured  alive, 
and  I  only  made  my  escape  in  a  pagoda,  or  a 
junk — I  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  notice 
which — at  the  imminent  peril  of  my  life.  Don't 
go  to  China,  Mr.  Duggs." 

Mr.  Duggs  rose. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  sternly,  "put  away 
that  fatal  bottle.  I  can  only  suppose  that  it  is 
under  the  influence  of  drink  that  you  have  ven- 
tured to  tell  me  such  an  irreverent  and  impossi- 
ble story." 

"Sir,"  began  Mr.  Bunker,  warmly, — for  he 
thought  that  an  outburst  of  indignation  would 
probably  be  the  safest  way  of  concluding  the  in- 
terview,— when  he  stopped  abruptly  and  listened. 
All  the  time  his  ears  had  been  alive  to  anything 
going  on  outside,  and  now  he  heard  a  cab  rattle 
up  and  stop  close  by.  It  might  be  at  Dr. 
Twiddel's,  he  thought,  and,  turning  from  his 
visitor,  he  sprang  to  the  window. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE        281 

Remarking  distantly,  "I  hear  a  cab;  it  is  pos- 
sibly a  friend  I  am  expecting,"  Mr.  Duggs 
stepped  to  the  other  window. 

It  was  only,  however,  a  hansom  at  the  door  of 
the  next  house,  out  of  which  a  very  golden- 
haired  young  lady  was  stepping. 

"Aha, "said  Mr.  Bunker,  quite  forgetting  the 
indignant  role  he  had  begun  to  play;  "rather 
nice!  Is  this  your  friend,  Mr.  Duggs  ?" 

Mr.  Duggs  gave  him  one  look  of  his  dull  eyes, 
and  walked  straight  for  the  door.  As  he  went 
out  he  merely  remarked,  "  Our  acquaintance  has 
been  brief,  Mr.  Butler,  but  it  has  been  quite  suffi- 
cient." 

"Quite,"  thought  Mr.  Bunker. 


CHAPTER  III 

THAT  was  Mr.  Bunker's  first  and  last  meeting 
with  the  Rev.  John  Duggs,  and  he  took  no  small 
credit  to  himself  for  having  so  effectually  in- 
censed his  neighbor,  without,  at  the  same  time, 
bringing  suspicion  on  anything  more  pertinent 
than  his  sobriety. 

And  yet  sometimes  in  the  course  of  the  next 
three  days  he  would  have  been  thankful  to  see 
him  again,  if  only  to  have  another  passage-of- 
arms.  The  time  passed  most  wearily;  the  con- 
sulting-room blinds  were  never  raised;  no  cabs 
stopped  before  the  doctor's  door;  nobody  except 
the  little  servant  ever  moved  about  the  house. 

He  could  think  of  no  plan  better  than  waiting; 
and  so  he  waited,  showing  himself  seldom  in  the 
streets,  and  even  sitting  behind  the  curtain  while 
he  watched  at  the  window.  After  writing  at 
some  length  to  the  Baron  he  had  no  further  cor- 
respondence that  he  could  distract  himself  with; 
he  was  even  forced  once  or  twice  to  dip  into  the 
theological  works.  Mrs.  Gabbon  had  evidently 
282 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        283 

"'card  sommat "  from  Mr.  Duggs,  and  treated 
him  to  little  of  her  society.  The  boredom  be- 
came so  excessive  that  he  decided  he  must  make 
a  move  soon,  however  rash  it  was. 

The  only  active  step  he  took,  and  indeed  the 
only  step  he  saw  his  way  to  take,  was  a  call  on 
Dr.  Twiddel's  locum.  But  luck  seemed  to  run 
dead  against  him.  Dr.  Billson  had  departed  "  on 
his  holiday,"  he  was  informed,  and  would  not 
return  for  three  weeks.  So  Mr.  Bunker  was 
driven  back  to  his  window  and  the  Baron's  cigars. 

It  was  the  evening  of  his  fourth  day  in  Mrs. 
Gabbon's  rooms.  He  had  finished  a  modest  din- 
ner and  was  dealing  himself  hands  at  piquet  with 
an  old  pack  of  cards,  when  he  heard  the  rattle  of 
a  cab  coming  up  the  street.  The  usual  faint 
flicker  of  hope  rose:  the  cab  stopped  below  him, 
the  flicker  burned  brighter,  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  at  the  window.  He  opened  the  slats  of  the 
blind,  and  the  flicker  was  aflame.  Before  the 
doctor's  house  a  four-wheeled  cab  was  standing 
laden  with  luggage,  and  two  men  were  going  up 
the  steps.  He  watched  the  luggage  being  taken 
in  and  the  cab  drive  away,  and  then  he  turned 
radiantly  back  to  the  fire. 


284        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"The  curtain  is  up,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  What's  the  first  act  to  be  ?  " 

Presently  he  put  on  his  wide-awake  hat  and 
went  out  for  a  stroll.  He  walked  slowly  past 
the  doctor's  house,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen  or  head.  Remembering  the  room  at  the 
back,  he  was  not  surprised  to  find  no  chink  of 
light  about  the  front  windows,  and  thinking  it 
better  not  to  run  the  risk  of  being  seen  lingering 
there,  he  walked  on.  He  was  in  such  good 
spirits,  and  had  been  cooped  up  so  continually 
for  the  last  few  days,  that  he  went  on  and  on, 
and  it  was  not  till  about  a  couple  of  hours  had 
passed  that  he  approached  his  rooms  again.  As 
he  came  down  the  street  he  was  surprised  to  see 
by  the  light  of  a  lamp  that  another  four-wheeler 
was  standing  before  the  doctor's  house,  also 
laden  with  luggage. 

Two  men  jumped  in,  one  after  another,  and 
when  he  had  come  at  his  fastest  walk  within 
twenty  yards  or  so,  the  cabman  whipped  up  and 
drove  rapidly  away,  luggage  arid  men  and  all. 

He  looked  up  and  down  for  a  hansom,  but 
there  were  none  to  be  seen.  For  a  few  yards  he 
set  off  at  a  run  in  pursuit,  and  then,  finding  that 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        285 

the  horse  was  being  driven  at  a  great  rate,  and 
remembering  the  paucity  of  stray  cabs  in  the 
quiet  streets  and  roads  round  about,  he  stopped 
and  considered  the  question. 

"After  all,"  he  reflected,  "it  may  not  have 
been  Dr.  Twiddel  who  drove  away;  in  fact,  if  it 
was  he  who  arrived  in  the  first  cab,  it's  any  odds 
against  it.  Pooh !  It  can't  be.  Still,  it's  a  curi- 
ous thing  if  two  cabs  loaded  with  luggage  came 
to  the  house  in  the  same  evening,  and  one  drove 
away  without  unlading." 

With  his  spirits  a  little  damped  in  spite  of  his 
philosophy,  he  went  back  to  his  rooms. 

In  the  morning  the  consulting-room  blinds 
were  still  down,  and  the  house  looked  as  de- 
serted as  ever. 

He  waited  till  lunch,  and  then  he  went  out 
boldly  and  pulled  the  doctor's  bell.  The  same 
little  maid  appeared,  but  she  evidently  did  not 
recognize  the  fashionable  patient  who  disap- 
peared so  mysteriously  in  the  demure-looking 
clergyman  at  the  door. 

"  Is  Dr.  Twiddel  at  home  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  he  ain't  back  yet." 

"  He  hasn't  been  back  ?  " 


286        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE 

"No,  sir." 

Mr.  Bunker  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  then  said 
to  himself,  "  She  is  lying." 

He  thought  he  would  try  a  chance  shot. 

"  But  he  was  expected  home  last  night,  I  be- 
lieve." 

The  maid  looked  a  little  staggered. 

"  He  ain't  been,"  she  replied. 

"  I  happen  to  have  heard  that  he  called  here," 
he  hazarded  again. 

This  time  she  was  evidently  put  about. 

"  He  ain't  been  here — as  I  knows  of." 

He  slipped  half-a-crown  into  her  hand. 

"Think  again,"  he  said,  in  his  most  winning 
accents. 

The  poor  little  maid  was  obviously  in  a  di- 
lemma. 

"  Do  you  want  him  particular,  sir  ?  " 

"  Particularly." 

She  fidgeted  a  little. 

"He  told  me,"  he  pursued,  "that  he  might 
look  in  at  his  rooms  last  night.  He  left  no  mes- 
sage for  me  ?  " 

"Whatnime,  sir?" 

"Mr.  Butler." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        287 

"No,  sir." 

"Then,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  with  his 
most  insinuating  smile,  " he  was  here  fora  little, 
you  can't  deny  ?" 

At  the  maid's  embarrassed  glance  down  his 
long  coat,  he  suddenly  realized  that  there  was  per- 
haps a  distinction  between  lay  and  clerical  smiles. 

"  He  might  have  just  looked  in,  sir,"  she  ad- 
mitted. 

"  But  he  didn't  want  it  known  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Quite  right,  I  advised  him  not  to,  and  you 
did  very  well  not  to  tell  me  at  first." 

He  smiled  approvingly  and  made  a  pretense  of 
turning  away. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  he  added,  stopping  as  if 
struck  by  an  afterthought,  "  is  he  still  in  town  ? 
He  promised  to  leave  word  for  me,  but  he  has 
evidently  forgotten." 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  'e  didn't  say." 

' '  What  ?    He  left  no  word  at  all  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

Mr.  Bunker  held  out  another  half-crown. 

"It's  truth,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  drawing  back; 
"  we  don't  know  where  'e  is." 


288        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"Take  it,  all  the  same;  you  have  been  very 
discreet.  You  have  no  idea  ?  " 

The  maid  hesitated. 

"I  did  'ear  Mr.  Welsh  sy  something  about 
lookin'  for  rooms,"  she  allowed. 

"In  London?" 

"  I  expect  so,  sir;  but  'e  didn't  say  no  more." 

"Mr.  Welsh  is  the  friend  who  came  with  him, 
of  course  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Thanks,"  said  Mr.  Bunker.  "By  the  way, 
Dr.  Twiddel  might  not  like  your  telling  this  even 
to  a  friend,  so  you  needn't  say  I  called,  I'll  tell 
him  myself  when  I  see  him,  and  I  won't  give  you 
away." 

He  smiled  benignly,  and  the  little  maid  thanked 
him  quite  gratefully. 

"Evidently,"  he  thought  as  he  went  away, 
"I  was  meant  for  something  in  the  detective 
line." 

He  returned  to  his  rooms  to  meditate,  and  the 
longer  he  thought  the  more  puzzled  he  became, 
and  yet  the  more  convinced  that  he  had  taken  up 
a  thread  that  must  lead  him  somewhere. 

"As  for  my  plan  of  action,"  he  considered,  "I 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        289 

see  nothing  better  for  it  than  staying  where  I  am 
— and  watching.  This  mysterious  doctor  must 
surely  steal  back  some  night.  Now  and  then  I 
might  go  round  the  town  and  try  a  cast  in  the 
likeliest  bars — oh,  hang  me,  though!  I  forgot  I 
was  a  clergyman." 

That  night  he  had  a  welcome  distraction  in  the 
shape  of  a  letter  from  the  Baron.  It  was  written 
from  Brierley  Park,  in  the  Baron's  best  pointed 
German  hand,  and  it  ran  thus  — 

"My  DEAR  BUNKER:  I  was  greatly  more  de- 
lighted that  I  am  able  to  express  to  you  from  the 
amusing  correspondence  you  addressed  me. 
How  glad  I  am,  I  can  assure  you,  that  you  are  still 
in  safety  and  comfort.  Remember,  my  dear 
friend,  to  call  for  me  when  need  arises,  although 
I  do  think  you  can  guard  yourself  as  well  as 
most  alone. 

"This  leaves  me  happy  and  healthful,  and  in 
utmost  prosperity  with  the  kind  Sir  Richard  and 
his  charming  Lady.  You  English  certainly  know 
well  how  to  cause  time  to  pass  with  mirth. 
About  instruction  I  say  less! 

"  They  have  talked  of  you  here.  I  laugh  and 
keep  my  tongue  when  they  wonder  who  he  is 
and  whither  gone  away.  Now  that  anger  is 


290        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

passed  and  they  see  I  myself  enjoy  the  joke,  they 
say,  and  especially  do  the  ladies  (You  humbug, 
Bunker!)  '  How  charming  was  the  imitation, 
Baron! '  You  can  indeed  win  the  hearts,  if  wish- 
ful so.  The  Lady  Grillyer  and  her  unexpressible 
daughter  I  have  often  seen.  To-day  they  come 
here  for  two  nights.  1  did  suggest  it  to  Lady 
Brierley,  and  I  fear  she  did  suspect  the  condition 
of  my  heart;  but  she  charmingly  smiled,  she 
asked  them,  and  they  come! 

"  The  Countess,  I  fear,  does  not  now  love  you 
much,  my  friend;  but  then  she  knows  not  the 
truth.  The  Lady  Alicia  is  strangely  silent  on  the 
matter  of  Mr.  Bunker,  but  in  time  she  also  doubt- 
less will  forgive."  (At  this  Mr.  Bunker  smiled 
in  some  amusement.) 

"  When  they  leave  Brierley  I  also  shall  take  my 
departure  on  the  following  day,  that  is  in  three 
days.  Therefore  write  hastily,  Bunker,  and  name 
the  place  and  hour  where  we  shall  meet  again 
and  dine  festively.  I  expect  a  most  reverent 
clergyman  and  much  instructive  discourse.  Ah, 
humbug!— Thine  always, 

"  RUDOLPH  VON  BLITZENBERG. 


"  P.  5. — She  is  sometimes  more  kind  and  some- 
times so  distant.  Ah,  I  know  not  what  to  sur- 
mise! But  to-morrow  or  the  next  my  fate  will 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LAEGE       291 

be  decided.     Give  me  of  your  prayers,  my  rev- 
erent friend  1 

"  R.  VON  B." 

"  Dear  old  Baron!  "  said  Mr.  Bunker.     "Well, 
I've  at  least  a  dinner  to  look  forward  to." 


CHAPTER  IV 

DR.  TWIDDEL,  meanwhile,  was  no  less  anxious 
to  make  the  Rev.  Alexander  Butler's  acquaintance 
than  the  Rev.  Alexander  Butler  was  to  make  his. 
Not  that  he  was  aware  of  that  gentleman's  recent 
change  of  identity  and  occupation;  but  most  in- 
dustrious endeavors  to  find  a  certain  Mr.  Bev- 
eridge  were  made  in  the  course  of  the  next  few 
days.  He  and  Welsh  were  living  modestly  and 
obscurely  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Pentonville 
road,  scouring  the  town  by  day,  studying  a  map 
and  laying  the  most  ingenious  plans  at  night. 
Welsh's  first  effort,  as  soon  as  they  were  estab- 
lished in  their  new  quarters,  was  to  induce  his 
friend  to  go  down  to  Clankwood  and  make 
further  inquiries,  but  this  Twiddel  absolutely  de- 
clined to  do. 

"My  dear  chap,"  he  answered,  "supposing 
anything  were  found  out,  or  even  suspected, 
what  am  I  to  say  ?  Old  Congleton  knows  me 
well,  and  for  his  own  sake  doesn't  want  to  make 
a  fuss;  but  if  he  really  spots  that  something  is 
292 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        293 

wrong,  he  will  be  so  afraid  of  his  reputation  that 
he'd  give  me  away  like  a  shot." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  give  things  away  by 
going  down  and  seeing  him  ?" 

"If  they  have  guessed  anything,  I'll  give  it 
away.  I  haven't  your  cheek,  you  know,  and 
tact,  and  that  sort  of  thing;  you'd  much  better  go 
yourself." 

"  /?    It  isn't  my  business." 

"  You  seem  to  be  making  it  yours.  Besides, 
Dr.  Congleton  thinks  it  is.  You  passed  yourself 
off  as  the  chap's  cousin,  and  it  is  quite  natural  for 
you  to  go  and  inquire." 

Welsh  pondered  the  point.  "  Hang  it,"  he 
said  at  last,  "  it  would  do  just  as  well  to  write. 
Perhaps  it's  safer  after  all. " 

"  Well,  you  write." 

"  Why  should  I,  rather  than  you  ?  " 

"  Because  you're  his  cousin." 

Welsh  considered  again.  "  Well,  I  don't  sup- 
pose it  matters  much.  I'll  write,  if  you're 
afraid." 

It  was  these  amiable  little  touches  in  his  friend's 
conversation  that  helped  to  make  Twiddel's  lot 
at  this  time  so  pleasant.  In  fact,  the  doctor 


294        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

was  learning  a  good  deal  about  human  nature  in 
cloudy  weather. 

With  great  care  Welsh  composed  a  polite  note 
of  anxious  inquiry,  and  by  return  of  post  received 
the  following  reply : — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR:  I  regret  to  inform  you  that  we 
have  not  so  far  recovered  your  cousin  Mr.  Bev- 
eridge.  In  all  probability,  however,  this  cannot 
be  long  delayed  now,  as  he  was  seen  within  the 
last  week  at  a  country  house  in  Dampshire,  and 
is  known  to  have  fled  to  London  immediately  on 
his  recognition,  but  before  he  could  be  secured. 
He  was  then  clean  shaved,  and  had  been  passing 
under  the  name  of  Francis  Bunker.  We  are 
making  strict  inquiries  for  him  in  London. 

"Nobody  can  regret  the  unfortunate  circum- 
stance of  his  escape  more  than  I,  and,  in  justice 
to  myself  and  my  institution,  I  can  assure  you  that 
it  was  only  through  the  most  unforeseen  and  re- 
markable ingenuity  on  your  cousin's  part  that  it 
occurred. 

"Trusting  that  I  may  soon  be  able  to  inform 
you  of  his  recovery,  I  am,  yours  very  truly, 

"ADOLPHUS  S.  CONGLETON." 

Their  ardor  was,  if  possible,  increased  by  Dr. 
Congleton's  letter.  Mr.  Beveridge  was  almost 


certainly  in  London,  and  they  knew  now  that 
they  must  look  for  a  clean-shaved  man.  Two 
private  inquiry  detectives  were  at  work;  and  on 
their  own  account  they  had  mapped  the  likeliest 
parts  of  London  into  beats,  visiting  every  bar 
and  restaurant  in  turn,  and  occasionally  hang- 
ing about  stations  and  the  stopping-places  for 
'buses. 

It  was  dreadfully  hard  work,  and  after  four 
days  of  it,  even  Welsh  began  to  get  a  little 
sickened. 

"Hang  it,"  he  said  in  the  evening,  "I  haven't 
had  a  decent  dinner  since  we  came  back.  Mr. 
Bunker  can  go  to  the  devil  for  to-night,  I'm 
going  to  dine  decently.  I'm  sick  of  going  round 
pubs,  and  not  even  stopping  to  have  a  drink." 

"So  am  I,"  replied  Twiddel,  cordially;  "  where 
shall  we  go  ?  " 

"The  Cafe  Maccarroni,"  suggested  Welsh; 
"we  can't  afford  a  West-end  place,  and  they 
give  one  a  very  decent  dinner  there." 

The  Cafe  Maccarroni  in  Holborn  is  nominally 
of  foreign  extraction, — certainly  the  waiters  and 
the  stout  proprietor  come  from  sunnier  lands, — 
and  many  of  the  diners  you  can  hear  talking  in 


296        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

strange  tongues,  with  quick  gesticulations.  But 
for  the  most  part  they  are  respectable  citizens  of 
London,  who  drink  Chianti  because  it  stimulates 
cheaply  and  not  unpleasantly.  The  white- 
painted  room  is  bright  and  clean  and  seldom 
very  crowded,  the  British  palate  can  be  tickled 
with  tolerable  joints  and  cutlets,  and  the  foreign 
with  gravy-covered  odds  and  ends.  Altogether, 
it  may  be  recommended  to  such  as  desire  to  dine 
comfortably  and  not  too  conspicuously. 

The  hour  at  which  the  two  friends  entered 
was  later  than  most  of  the  habituts  dine,  and 
they  had  the  room  almost  to  themselves.  They 
faced  each  other  across  a  small  table  beside  the 
wall,  and  very  soon  the  discomforts  of  their 
researches  began  to  seem  more  tolerable. 

"We'll  catch  him  soon,  old  man,"  said  Welsh, 
smiling  more  affably  than  he  had  smiled  since 
they  came  back.  ' '  A  day  or  two  more  of  this 
kind  of  work  and  even  London  won't  be  able  to 
conceal  him  any  longer." 

"  Dash  it,  we  must,"  replied  Twiddel,  bravely. 
"We'll  show  old  Congleton  how  to  look  fora 
lunatic." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Welsh,  "I  think  he'll  be 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        297 

rather  relieved  himself.  Waiter!  another  bottle 
of  the  same." 

The  bottle  arrived,  and  the  waiter  was  just 
filling  their  glasses  when  a  young  clergyman 
entered  the  room  and  walked  quietly  towards 
the  farther  end.  Welsh  raised  his  glass  and  ex- 
claimed, "Here's  luck  to  ourselves,  Twiddel, 
old  man!" 

At  that  moment  the  clergyman  was  passing 
their  table,  and  at  the  mention  of  this  toast  he 
started  almost  imperceptibly,  and  then,  throwing 
a  quick  glance  at  the  two,  stopped  and  took  a 
seat  at  the  next  table,  with  his  back  turned  to- 
wards them.  Welsh,  who  was  at  the  farther  side, 
looked  at  him  with  some  annoyance,  and  made 
a  sign  to  Twiddel  to  talk  a  little  more  quietly. 

To  the  waiter,  who  came  with  the  menu,  the 
clergyman  explained  in  a  quiet  voice  that  he 
was  waiting  for  a  friend,  and  asked  for  an 
evening  paper  instead,  in  which  he  soon  ap- 
peared to  be  deeply  engrossed. 

At  first  the  conversation  went  on  in  a  lower 
tone,  but  in  a  few  minutes  they  insensibly  for- 
got their  neighbor,  and  the  voices  rose  again  by 
starts. 


298        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"My  dear  fellow,"  Welsh  was  saying,  "we 
can  discuss  that  afterwards;  we  haven't  caught 
him  yet." 

"  I  want  to  settle  it  now." 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  settled." 

"No,  it  wasn't,"  said  Twiddel,  with  a  foreign 
and  vinous  doggedness. 

"  What  do  you  suggest  then  ?  " 

"  Divide  it  equally — £250  each." 

"You  think  you  can  claim  half  the  credit  for 
the  idea  and  half  the  trouble  ?" 

"  I  can  claim  all  the  risk — practically." 

"Pooh!"  said  Welsh.  "You  think  I  risked 
nothing  ?  Come,  come,  let's  talk  of  something 
else." 

"Oh,  rot!"  interrupted  Twiddel,  who  by  this 
time  was  decidedly  flushed.  "  You  needn't  ride 
the  high  horse  like  that,  you  are  not  Mr.  Man- 
tlell-Essington  any  longer." 

With  a  violent  start,  the  clergyman  brought 
his  fist  crash  on  the  table,  and  exclaimed  aloud, 
"By  Heaven,  that's  it  1" 


CHAPTER  V 

As  one  may  suppose,  everybody  in  the  room 
started  in  great  astonishment  at  this  extraor- 
dinary outburst.  With  a  sharp  "  Hullo! "  Twid- 
del  turned  in  his  seat,  to  see  the  clergyman 
standing  over  him  with  a  look  of  the  keenest 
inquiry  in  his  well-favored  face. 

"May  I  ask,  Dr.  Twiddel,  what  you  know  of 
the  gentleman  you  just  named  ?  "  he  said,  with 
perfect  politeness. 

The  conscience-smitten  doctor  gazed  at  him 
blankly,  and  the  color  suddenly  left  his  face. 
But  Welsh's  nerves  were  stronger;  and,  as  he 
looked  hard  at  the  stranger,  a  jubilant  light 
leaped  to  his  eyes. 

' '  It's  our  man !  "  he  cried,  before  his  friend  could 
gather  his  wits.  "  It's  Beveridge,  or  Bunker,  or 
whatever  he  calls  himself!  Waiter!" 

Instantly  three  waiters,  all  agog,  hurried  at  his 
summons. 

Mr.  Bunker  regarded  him  with  considerable 
299 


300        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

surprise.  He  had  quite  expected  that  the  pair 
would  be  thrown  into  confusion,  but  not  that 
it  would  take  this  form. 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  began,  but  Welsh 
interrupted  him  by  crying  to  the  leading 
waiter  — 

"Fetch  a  four-wheeled  cab  and  a  policeman, 
quick!  "  As  the  man  hesitated,  he  added,  "This 
man  here  is  an  escaped  lunatic." 

The  waiter  was  starting  for  the  door,  when 
Mr.  Bunker  stepped  out  quickly  and  interrupted 
him. 

"Stop  one  minute,  waiter,"  he  said,  with  a 
quiet,  unruffled  air  that  went  far  to  establish  his 
sanity.  "Do  I  look  like  a  lunatic?  Kindly  call 
the  proprietor  first", 

The  stout  proprietor  was  already  on  his  way 
to  their  table,  and  the  one  or  two  other  diners 
were  beginning  to  gather  round.  Mr.  Bunker's 
manner  had  impressed  even  Welsh,  and  after  his 
nature  he  took  refuge  in  bluster. 

"I  say,  my  man,"  he  cried,  "this  won't  pass. 
Somebody  fetch  a  cab." 

"Vat  is  dees  about?"  asked  the  proprietor, 
coming  up. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        301 

"Your  wine,  I'm  afraid,  has  been  rather  too 
powerful  for  this  gentleman,"  Mr.  Bunker  ex- 
plained, with  a  smile. 

"  Look  here,"  blustered  Welsh,  "  do  you  know 
you've  got  a  lunatic  in  the  room  ?  " 

"You  can  perhaps  guess  it,"  smiled  Mr.  Bun- 
ker, indicating  Welsh  with  his  eyes. 

The  waiters  began  to  twitter,  and  Welsh,  with 
an  effort,  pulled  himself  together. 

"My  friend  here,"  he  said,  "is  Dr.  Twiddel,  a 
well-known  practitioner  in  London.  He  can 
tell  you  that  he  certified  this  man  as  a  lunatic, 
and  that  he  afterwards  escaped  from  his  asy- 
lum. That  is  so,  Twiddel  ?  " 

"Yes,"  assented  Twiddel,  whose  color  was 
beginning  to  come  back  a  little. 

"  Who  are  you,  sare  ?"  asked  the  proprietor. 

"  Show  him  your  card,  Twiddel,"  said  Welsh, 
producing  his  own  and  handing  it  over. 

The  proprietor  looked  at  both  cards,  and  then 
turned  to  Mr.  Bunker. 

"  And  who  are  you,  sare  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Mandell-Essington." 

"His  name "  began  Welsh. 

"  Have  you  a  card  ?  "  interposed  the  proprietor. 


302        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"I  am  sorry  I  have  not,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker 
(to  still  call  him  by  the  name  of  his  choice). 

"His  name  is  Francis  Beveridge,"  said  Welsh. 

"I  beg  your  pardon;  it  is  Mandell-Essington." 

"Any  other  description  ?"  Welsh  asked,  with 
a  sneer. 

"  A  gentleman,  I  believe." 

"  No  other  occupation  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  can  call  a  justice  of  the  peace 
such,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  with  a  smile. 

"And  yet  he  disguises  himself  as  a  clergy- 
man! "  exclaimed  Welsh,  triumphantly,  turning 
to  the  proprietor. 

Mr.  Bunker  saw  that  he  was  caught,  but  he 
merely  laughed,  and  observed,  "My  friend  here 
disguises  himself  in  liquor,  a  much  less  respect- 
able cloak." 

Unfortunately  the  humor  of  this  remark  was 
somewhat  thrown  away  on  his  present  audience; 
indeed,  coming  from  a  professed  clergyman,  it 
produced  an  unfavorable  impression. 

"You  are  not  a  clergyman?"  said  the  pro- 
prietor, suspiciously. 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  I  am  not,"  replied  Mr. 
Bunker,  frankly. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        303 

"Den  vat  do  you  do  in  dis  dress  ? " 

"I  put  it  on  as  a  compliment  to  the  cloth;  I 
retain  it  at  present  for  decency,"  said  Mr.  Bunker, 
whose  tongue  had  now  got  a  fair  start  of  him. 

"  Mad,"  remarked  Welsh,  confidentially,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  with  really  excellent  dramatic 
effect. 

By  this  time  the  audience  were  disposed  to 
agree  with  him. 

"You  can  give  no  better  account  of  yourself 
dan  dis?"  asked  the  proprietor. 

"I  am  anxious  to,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  "but a 
public  restaurant  is  not  the  place  in  which  I  choose 
to  give  it." 

"Fetch  the  cab  and  the  policeman,"  said  Welsh 
to  a  waiter. 

At  this  moment  another  gentleman  entered  the 
room,  and  at  the  sight  of  him  Mr.  Bunker's  face 
brightened,  and  he  stopped  the  waiter  by  a  cry 
of,  "  Wait  one  moment;  here  comes  a  gentleman 
who  knows  me." 

Everybody  turned,  and  beheld  a  burly,  very 
fashionably  dressed  young  man,  with  a  fair  mous- 
tache and  a  cheerful  countenance. 

"Ach,  Bonker!"  he  cried. 


304        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

This  confirmation  of  Mr.  Bunker's  aliases  ought, 
one  would  expect,  to  have  delighted  the  two 
conspirators,  but,  instead,  it  produced  the  most 
remarkable  effect.  Twiddel  utterly  collapsed, 
while  even  Welsh's  impudence  at  last  deserted 
him.  Neither  said  a  word  as  the  Baron  von  Blitz- 
enberg  greeted  his  friend  with  affectionate  hearti- 
ness. 

"My  friend,  zis  is  good  for  ze  heart!  Bot, 
how  ?  vat  makes  it  here  ?" 

"  My  dear  Baron,  the  most  unfortunate  mistake 

has  occurred.  Two  men  here "  But  at  this 

moment  he  stopped  in  great  surprise,  for  the 
Baron  was  staring  hard  first  at  Welsh  and  then  at 
Twiddel. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  "Mr.  Mandell-Essing- 
ton,  I  zink?" 

Welsh  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  his  hesita- 
tion was  evident  to  all.  Then  he  replied,  "  No, 
you  are  mistaken." 

"Surely  I  cannot  be;  you  did  stay  in  Fogel- 
schloss  ?  "  said  the  Baron.  "  Is  not  zis  Dr.  Twid- 
del?" 

"No — er — ah — yes,"  stammered  Twiddel,  look- 
ing feebly  at  Welsh. 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        305 

The  Baron  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other  in 
great  perplexity,  when  Mr.  Bunker,  who  had 
been  much  puzzled  by  this  conversation,  broke 
in,  "  Did  you  call  that  person  Mandell-Essing- 
ton?" 

"I  cairtainly  zought  it  vas." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"In  Bavaria,  at  my  own  castle." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  Welsh. 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Welsh,"  said  Mr.  Bunker. 
"  How  long  ago  was  this,  Baron  ?" 

"Jost  before  I  gom  to  London.  He  traveled 
viz  zis  ozzer  gentleman,  Dr.  Twiddel." 

"You  are  wrong,  sir,"  persisted  Welsh. 

"For  his  health,"  added  the  Baron. 

A  light  began  to  dawn  on  Mr.  Bunker. 

"His  health?"  he  cried,  and  then  smiled  po- 
litely at  Welsh. 

"We  will  talk  this  over,  Mr.  Welsh." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  happen  to  be  going,"  said  Welsh, 
taking  his  hat  and  coat. 

"What,  without  your  lunatic?"  asked  Mr. 
Bunker. 

"That  is  Dr.  Twiddel's  affair,  not  mine. 
Kindly  let  me  pass,  sir." 


306        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"No,  Mr.  Welsh;  if  you  go  now,  it  will  be  in 
the  company  of  that  policeman  you  were  so  anx- 
ious to  send  for."  There  was  such  an  unmistaka- 
ble threat  in  Mr.  Bunker's  voice  and  eye  that 
Welsh  hesitated.  "We  will  talk  it  over,  Mr. 
Welsh,"  Mr.  Bunker  repeated  distinctly.  "Kindly 
sit  down.  I  have  several  things  to  ask  you  and 
your  friend  Dr.  Twiddel." 

Muttering  something  under  his  breath,  Welsh 
hung  up  his  coat  and  hat,  sat  down,  and  then 
assuming  an  air  of  great  impudence,  remarked, 
"Fire  away,  Mr.  Mandell-Essington — Beveridge 
— Bunker,  or  whatever  you  call  yourself." 

Without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  this 
piece  of  humor,  Mr.  Bunker  turned  to  the  be- 
wildered proprietor,  and,  to  the  intense  disap- 
pointment of  the  audience,  said,  "  You  can  leave 
us  now,  thank  you;  our  talk  is  likely  to  be  of  a 
somewhat  private  nature."  As  their  gallery 
withdrew,  he  drew  up  a  chair  for  thf  Baron,  and 
all  four  sat  round  the  small  table. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Bunker  to  Welsh,  "you  will 
perhaps  be  kind  enough  to  give  me  a  precise 
account  of  your  doings  since  the  middle  of 
November." 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE        307 

"  I'm  d d  if  I  do,"  replied  Welsh. 

"Sare,"  interposed  the  Baron  in  his  stateliest 
manner,  "  I  know  not  now  who  you  may  be, 
but  I  see  you  are  no  gentleman.  Ven  you  are 
viz  gentlemen — and  noblemen — you  vill  please  to 
speak  respectfully." 

The  stare  that  Welsh  attempted  in  reply  was 
somewhat  ineffective. 

"  Perhaps,  Dr.  Twiddel,  you  can  give  the  ac- 
count I  want  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bunker. 

The  poor  doctor  looked  at  his  friend,  hesitated, 
and  finally  stammered  out,  "  I — I  don't  see  why." 

Mr.  Bunker  pulled  a  paper  out  of  his  pocket 
and  showed  it  to  him. 

"  Perhaps  this  may  suggest  a  why." 

When  the  doctor  saw  the  bill  for  Mr.  Bev- 
eridge's  linen,  the  last  of  his  courage  ebbed 
away.  He  glanced  helplessly  at  Welsh,  but  his 
ally  was  now  leaning  back  in  his  chair  with  such 
an  irritating  assumption  of  indifference,  and  the 
prospective  fee  had  so  obviously  vanished,  that 
he  was  suddenly  seized  with  the  most  virtuous 
resolutions. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know,  sir?"  he 
asked. 


308        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

"  In  the  first  place,  how  did  you  come  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  me  ?" 

Welsh,  whose  sharp  wits  instantly  divined  the 
weak  point  in  the  attack,  cut  in  quickly,  "Don't 
tell  him  if  he  doesn't  know  already! " 

But  Twiddel's  relapse  to  virtue  was  complete. 

"  I  was  asked  to  take  charge  of  you  while " 

He  hesitated. 

"While  I  was  unwell,"  smiled  Mr.  Bunker. 
"Yes?" 

"  I  was  to  travel  with  you." 

"Ah!" 

"  But  I — I  didn't  like  the  idea,  you  see;  and  so 
— in  fact — Welsh  suggested  that  I  should  take 
him  instead." 

"  While  you  locked  me  up  in  Clankwood  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha! "laughed  Mr.  Bunker,  "I  must 
say  it  was  a  devilish  humorous  idea." 

At  this  Twiddel  began  to  take  heart  again. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  for "he  began, 

when  the  Baron  interrupted  excitedly. 

"  Zen  vat  is  your  name,  Bonker  ?  " 

"/am  Mr.  Mandell-Essington,  Baron." 


The  Baron  looked  at  the  other  two  in  turn  with 
wide-open  eyes. 

Then  he  turned  indignantly  upon  Welsh. 

"  You  were  impostor  zen,  sare  ?  You  gom  to 
my  house  and  call  yourself  a  gentleman,  and  im- 
pose upon  me,  and  tell  of  your  family  and  your 
estates.  You,  a  low — er — er — vat  you  say? — a 
low  cad!  Bonker,  I  cannot  sit  at  ze  same  table 
viz  zese  persons!" 

He  rose  as  he  spoke. 

"One  moment,  Baron!  Before  we  send  these 
gentlemen  back  to  their  really  promising  career 
of  fraud,  I  want  to  ask  one  or  two  more  ques- 
tions." He  turned  to  Twiddel.  "What  were 
you  to  be  paid  for  this  ?  " 

"^500." 

Mr.  Bunker  opened  his  eyes.  "  That's  the 
way  my  money  goes  ?  From  your  anxiety  to 
recapture  me,  I  presume  you  have  not  yet  been 
paid?" 

"  No,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Essington,"  said  Twid- 
del, eagerly;  "  I  give  you  my  word." 

"  I  shall  judge  by  the  circumstances  rather 
than  your  word,  sir.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary 
to  inform  you  that  you  have  had  your  trouble  for 


310        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

nothing."  He  looked  at  them  both  as  though 
they  were  curious  animals,  and  then  continued: 
"You,  Mr.  Welsh,  are  a  really  wonderfully 
typical  rascal.  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you.  You 
can  now  put  on  your  coat  and  go."  As  Welsh 
still  sat  defiantly,  he  added,  "  At  once,  sir!  or  you 
may  possibly  find  policemen  and  four-wheeled 
cabs  outside.  I  have  something  else  to  say  to 
Dr.  Twiddel." 

With  the  best  air  he  could  muster,  Welsh 
silently  cocked  his  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
threw  his  coat  over  his  arm,  and  was  walking 
out,  when  a  watchful  waiter  intercepted  him. 

"  Your  bill,  sare." 

"  My  friend  is  paying." 

"No,  Mr.  Welsh,"  cried  the  real  Essington; 
"  I  think  you  had  better  pay  for  this  dinner  your- 
self." 

Welsh  saw  the  vigilant  proprietor  already  com- 
ing towards  him,  and  with  a  look  that  augured 
ill  for  Twiddel  when  they  were  alone,  he  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket. 

"  Ha,  ha!  "  laughed  Essington,  "  the  inevitable 
bill!" 

"  And  now,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Twid- 


THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE       311 

del,  "you,  doctor,  seem  to  me  a  most  unfortu- 
nately constructed  biped;  your  nose  is  just  long 
enough  to  enable  you  to  be  led  into  a  singularly 
original  adventure,  and  your  brains  just  too  few 
to  carry  it  through  creditably.  Hang  me  if  I 
wouldn't  have  made  a  better  job  of  the  business! 
But  before  you  disappear  from  the  company  of 
gentlemen  I  must  ask  you  to  do  one  favor  for 
me.  First  thing  to-morrow  morning  you  will  go 
down  to  Clankwood,  tell  what  lie  you  please, 
and  obtain  my  legal  discharge,  or  whatever  it's 
called.  After  that  you  may  go  to  the  devil — or, 
what  comes  much  to  the  same  thing,  to  Mr. 
Welsh — for  all  I  care.  You  will  do  this  without 
fail  ?  " 

"Ye— es,"  stammered  Twiddel,  "certainly, 
sir." 

"  You  may  now  retire— and  the  faster  the 
better." 

As  the  crestfallen  doctor  followed  his  ally  out 
of  the  restaurant,  the  Baron  exclaimed  in  disgust, 
"Ze  cads!  You  are  too  merciful.  You  should 
punish." 

"  My  dear  Baron,  after  all  I  am  obliged  to  these 
rascals  for  the  most  amusing  time  I  have  ever  had 


312        THE  LUNATIC  AT  LARGE 

in  my  life,  and  one  of  the  best  friends  I've  ever 
made." 

"Ach,  Bonker!  Bot  vat  do  I  say?  You  are 
not  Bonker  no  more,  and  yet  may  I  call  you  so, 
jost  for  ze  sake  of  pleasant  times  ?  It  vill  be  too 
hard  to  change." 

"  I'd  rather  you  would,  Baron.  It  will  be  a 
perpetual  in  memoriam  record  of  my  departed 
virtues." 

"Departed,  Bonker?" 

"  Departed,  Baron,"  his  friend  repeated  with  a 
sigh;  "  for  how  can  I  ever  hope  to  have  so  spa- 
cious a  field  for  them  again  ?  Believe  me,  they 
will  wither  in  an  atmosphere  of  orthodoxy.  And 
now  let  us  order  dinner." 

"  But  first,"  said  the  Baron,  blushing,  "I  haf  a 
piece  of  news." 

"  Baron,  I  guess  it!" 

"  Ze  Lady  Alicia  is  now  mine!    Congratulate!  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Baron!  What  could  be  a 
fitter  finish  than  the  detection  of  villainy,  the 
marriage  of  all  the  sane  people,  and  the  apothe- 
osis of  the  lunatic  ?  " 

THE  END 


A  Rich  Man's  Daughter 

,_  * 

By  MRS.   J.  H.  RIDDELL 

392  pages,  size  7%  x  5,  cloth.    Ink  and  Gold,  $1.25 

it  is  not  given  to  many  novelists  to  portray  the  weaknesse; 
and  wickednesses  of  men  and  women  and  at  the  same  timt 
to  preserve  what  may  be  called  a  "  high  moral  tone."  There 
is  too  often  a  tendency  to  extenuate  baseness  because  it  is 
coupled  with  some  admirable  quality,  and  vice  not  seldom 
goes  unpunished  because  its  votary  is  beautiful.  Of  Mrs.  J . 
H.  Riddell  this  cannot  be  said.  She  panders  not  at  all  to  the 
popular  feeling  of  tolerrnce  and  even  liking  for  a  handsome 
or  brave  villain.  Sinners  whom  she  introduces  to  us  meet 
their  deserts,  and  no  one  can  complain  of  her  stories  that 
they  tend  to  debase  or  corrupt  youth.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  are  full  of  life  and  adventure.  The  plot  of  the  one 
before  us,  "A  Rich  Man's  Daughter"  is  sufficiently  out  of 
the  common  to  be  attractive  even  if  it  be  not  quite  original. 
And  it  gives  scope  for  some  admirable  character-drawing. 
To  tell  the  story  would  be  to  deprive  the  reader  of  more  than 
half  the  interest  in  the  book. — Globe. 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Riddell  is  among  the  most  capable  of  writers 
who  are  engaged  in  catering  for  the  tastes  of  fiction  readers, 
and  it  is  with  assured  feelings  of  pleasure  to  come  that  we 
take  a  new  book  of  hers  into  our  hand.  The  characters  are 
finished  studies,  and  many  of  the  scenes  are  drawn  so  vividly 
as  to  stick  in  the  memory  as  though  we  had  ourselves  been 
present.  "A  Rich  Man's  Daughter"  is,  indeed,  a  novel  to 
be  read  by  all  who  wish  to  make  themselves  acquainted  with 
the  best  fiction  that  each  season  produces. — Times. 

It  is  no  unusual  thing  tor  us  to  have  readable  romances 
from  Mrs.  J.  H.  Riddell,  and  in  "A  Rich  Man's  Daughter" 
she  has  not  departed  from  her  good  custom.  The  book  is 
carefully  written  and  pains  have  been  taken  to  make  the 
characters  creatures  of  clay,  instead  of  puppets  with  sawduat 
substituted  for  flesh  and  blood.— Journal. 

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Comrades  True 


By  ANNIE  THOMAS 

354  Pa£est  size  7%  x$,  Cloth,  ink  and  gold,  $1.25. 
This  novel  is  nothing  if  not  up  to  date,  and  if  its  publica- 
tion had  only  been  delayed  a  month  the  fall  of  Tientsin 
would  in  all  probability  have  figured  largely  in  the  closing 
pages.  The  name  is  all  right  as  far  as  a  certain  portion  of 
the  characters  go,  but  the  rest  of  them  are  about  as  untrue 
to  each  other  as  one  could  possibly  imagine,  and  the  readers 
will  make  a  great  mistake  if  they  imagine  those  who  are  en- 
gaged to  be  married  in  the  early  part  of  the  book  have  any 
real  intention  of  actually  marrying.  For  those  who  like  to 
have  their  fiction  people  live,  move,  and  have  their  being 
amid  the  toil  and  trouble  of  everyday  life,  this  story  will, 
without  doubt,  appeal  strongly-  The  English — well,  that 
does  not  matter  so  much  in  books  of  this  class,  and 
the  action  is  so  rapid  and  vividly  realistic  that  one  un- 
consciously overlooks  any  little  mistakes  which  the  author 
may  have  committed  in  her  desire  to  get  the  book  complete 
before  the  war  in  Africa  was  finished. — Phila.  Telegraph. 

"  Comrades  True  *'  is  a  wide-reachiug  romance.  The  lisV 
includes  impecunious  comrades — not  well-mated  comrades — 
divorced  and  wanted-to-be-divorced  comrades,  and  their  in- 
felicities are  heard  all  the  way  from  London  to  South  Africa 
on  sea  and  laud.  The  reader  will  ever  find  it  difficult  with- 
out tabbing  to  keep  an  account  of  the  divorce  mill.  Tke 
parties  in  each  contest  are  remarkably  serene,  and  behind 
each  some  other  man  or  woman  appears  in  sight  to  enable 
"Comrades  True"  to  bear  a  separation  with  equanimity. 
The  London  Literary  World,  in  noticing  the  book,  says :  It 
cannot  be  complained  that  "'Comrades  True"  is  not  up  to 
date.  The  Boers,  the  imperial  volunteers,  wounds,  and 
nurses  play  a  large  part  in  it,  and  the  author  delivers  herself 
<rf  plenty  of  such  correct,  if  rash  Saxon  sentiments  as  'I'd 
like  to  face  a  hundred  Boers  single-handed  this  minute,  and 
"how  them  what  an  Englishman  can  do  when  his  blood  is  up 
at  insults  offered  to  our  Queen  and  country."  The  story  has 
life  and  movement,  and  seems  to  be  in  line,  and  does  not 
•omprehend  the  connubial  infelicities  which  are  threatening 
the  happy  home  life  of  the  world.,— Chicago  Inter-Ocean* 

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Two  Cousins  and  a  Castle 


By  MRS.  H.  LOrETT  CAMERON 

268  pages  size  7^x5,  Cloth,  Ink  and  Gold,  $1-25 

Clever  and  interesting  in  the  list  of  summer  novels  Is 
"  Two  Cousins  and  a  Castle,"  by  Mrs.  H.  Lovett  Cameron 
(F.  M.  Buckles  &  Co.,  New  York).  Portalloc  is  the  castle 
which  figures  so  largely  in  the  story,  and  the  two  cousins  are 
the  grandson  and  granddaughter  of  its  owner,  Mr.  Eardley, 
an  English  country  gentleman  with  great  family  pride  and 
little  money.  He  had  quarreled  with  his  two  children,  now 
dead  —  with  the  son  for  marrying  a  governess;  with  the 
daughter  for  becoming  the  wife  of  a  manufacturer  by  the 
unendurable  name  of  Spinks.  In  his  lonely  old  age  the 
grandfather  sought  to  marry  the  cousins  to  each  other, 
hyphenating  the  name  Spinks  with  Eardley,  and  with  the 
Spinks  millions  restore  Portalloc  to  its  former  grandeur. 
How  the  cousins  fail  to  carry  out  the  plans  of  their  elders 
makes  the  story,  which  ends  in  a  happy  marriage  and 
Portalloc  for  the  girl,  but  with  a  sudden  and  unnecessary 
tragedy  for  the  boy.  Barring  this  unpleasant  feature  of  its 
ending  the  book  is  commendable  for  vacation  reading. 

—  The  Chicago  Tribune,  Aug.  3,  1901 

This  pleasing  romance  is  sure  to  make  its  way  among 
readers  who  like  the  love  story  as  developed  with  tragic 
features.  The  "cousins"  of  the  story  are  "Amabel  Eardley" 
and  "Tom  Spinks."  The  castle  is  at  Portalloc,  England, 
overlooking  the  sea,  and  is  a  restored  ruin  ;  its  walls  having 
been  partially  demolished  by  Cromwell's  cannon.  "  Mr. 
Eardley,"  grandfather  of  the  cousins  has  planned  a  meeting,, 
but  Cupid  and  Melphomene  interfere.  Cupid  wills  it  tha/t 
"  Amabel"  falls  in  love  with  "Achille  de  Vernet,"  a  French- 
man, and  that  "Tom"  becomes  smitten  with  "Dorothy 
Duke,"  a  charming  but  heartless  adventuress.  Melphomene 
wills  it  that  "Dorothy,"  after  couquetting  with  "Tom" 
marries  "Spinks,  Sr.,"  his  father,  a  wealthy  manufacturer. 
The  story  is  full  of  interest  and  clever  touches. 

—  Indianapolis  Sentinel 

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A  Ward  of  the  King 

(An  Historical  Romance} 

By  KATHARINE  S.  MACQUQID 

•f  ^N»j 

328  pages,    size  ?yz  #5,    Cloth  ,    Ink   and    Gold,   $i  25 


This  is  a  story  of  the  times  of  the  great  Constable  of 
Bourbon.  Jeanne  d'Acigne"  is  married  when  a  child  to  ihe 
Cotnte  de  Laval.  Adventures  and  the  clash  of  steel  are 
things  masculine,  and  the  woman  cannot  put  enough  muscle 
into  her  hard  knocks.  But  perhaps  for  this  very  reason  it 
may  be  commended  to  those  gentler  souls  who  shrink  from 
blood  and  wounds  ;  and  it  may  be  also  commended  to  those 
who  are  charmed  by  a  singularly  refined  and  feminine  style 
for  its  own  gracious  sake.  —  London  Literary  World. 

"  A  Ward  of  the  King"  is  a  romance  of  the  time  of  the 
Bourbon  kings.  The  heroine  is  the  only  child  of  the  Count 
d'Acigne",  dead  when  the  story  opens  ;  the  heroes,  the  Count 
of  Laval,  whom  she  marries  at  thirteen  at  the  command  of 
the  King  and  her  friend  and  unknown  lover,  Roland,  the 
heir  of  the  Vicomte  d'Orbec  —  both  noble  men  in  truth. 
The  cousin  of  the  Count  of  Laval,  Etiennede  Retz,  conceived 
a  passion  for  the  Countess  Laval  on  her  wedding  day.  This 
leads  to  the  intrigue  about  which  the  story,  full  of  life  and 
fur  ,  centers  .  —  The  Outlook  . 

Miss  Katharine  S  .  Macquoid  in  her  new  book,  "A  Ward 
of*  the  King,"  has  departed  somewhat  from  the  usual  rule  of 
romance  writers.  She  has  taken  for  the  centre  figure  of  the 
story  a  woman  instead  of  a  swaggering  man.  This  notion, 
however,  must  be  commended  by  the  excellent  manner  in 
which  the  authoress  has  transcribed  it  —  Boston  Courier. 

With  the  present   widespread  popularity  of,  and  interest 

T  the  historical  romance,  Katharine  Macquoid's    "  A  Ward 

;  King''  is  sure  of  a  hearing.      The  tale  is  worthy  of  the 

i  •  i  uiums  which  are  being  bestowed  upon  it.     The  story  is 

i  •  Great  Constable  of  Bourbon  ;  its  scenes  and  its  times 

•  lend  themselves  to  the  play  of  the  roirantic  incident 

\nd  the  weaving  of  skilful  plots       The  stor/  iS  marked  by  * 

style  of  singular  refinement.  —  American,      ov.  16. 

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New  Yor\ 


Marjory  Moore 


By  ADELINE  SERGEANT 

426  pages,  size  7^  x$.    Ink  and  Gold,  $1.25 

This  is  a  strongly  written  story,  with  a  vein  of  tragedy 
running  through  its  length.  The  reader  almost  immediately 
conceives  a  peculiar  sympathy  for  the  little  country  girl 
whom  the  benevolent  old  Squire,  with  a  love  for  music, 
assists  to  a  career  of  fame  upon  the  stage  as  a  fair  violinist. 
Marjory's  fortunes,  like  those  of  many  others  who  court  the 
applause  of  the  fickle  public,  suffer  a  collapse,  and  the  arm 
upon  which  she  expected  to  lean  fails  her ;  but  in  the  end 
she  finds  a  heart  of  gold  and  the  story  ends  happily .  It  is 
really  a  charming  romance,  and  will  please  a  large  share  of 
the  reading  public. 

The  well-known  authoress  has  never  given  us  a  stronger 
picture  of  humanity  in  its  various  phases.  Marjory  is  de- 
cidedly feminine,  and  naturally  chooses  the  lover  whose 
handsome  face  appeals  to  her  girlish  heart;  but  through 
bitter  trials  she  learns  her  lesson,  and  when  the  storms  have 
passed  finds  a  safe  harbor  in  the  heart  of  the  honorable  lover 
who  has  lived  but  to  serve  her  since  girlhood. — American. 

It  is  very  rarely  our  good  fortune  to  meet  with  a  novel  that 
is  written  well  from  the  first,  page  to  the  last,  and  when  thia 
luck  has  come  in  our  way,  we  are  not  slow  to  return  good  for 
good,  by  cordially  giving  thanks  for  pleasure  received,  and 
by  hastening  to  tell  our  readers  where  to  obtain  fiction  that 
is  a  credit  to  English  literature  "  Majory  Moore  "  is  a  novel 
of  an  old-f  ashio-ned  flavor,  but  none  the  less  pleasant  because 
of  this  quality.  It  borrows  nothing  from  melodrama.—  News. 

There  is  much  skill  in  the  study  of  the  female  characters, 
and  the  story  is  attractive. — Courier, 

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Tork 


Joany  the  Curate 


By  FLORENCE  WARDEN 

308  pages,  size  7%  xj,  Cloth  3  stampings,  $ijoo 


The  time  of  the  story  is  1748,  its  scene  being  along  the 
feeacoast  of  Sussex,  England.  The  doings  here  of  the  "free 
traders,"  as  they  called  themselves,  or  smugglers,  as  the 
government  named  them,  had  become  so  audacious  that  a 
revenue  cutter  with  a  smart  young  lieutenant  in  command,  \ 
and  a  brigade  of  cavalry,  were  sent  down  to  work  together 
against  the  offenders.  Everybody  in  the  village  seems  en- 
gaged in  evading  the  revenue  laws,  and  the  events  are  very 
exciting.  Joan  is  the  parson's  daughter,  and  so  capable  and 
useful  in  the  parish  that  she  is  called  "the  curate."  She  and 
the  smart  young  lieutenant  are  the  characters  in  a  romance. 

— Book  Notes. 

"Joan,  the  Curate"  ^Joan,  a  creamy -skinned,  black-eyed 
maiden,  gets  her  surname  on  account  of  the  part  she  plays 
in  helping  her  father,  Parson  Langley,  with  his  duties),  is  a 
village  tale  of  the  smuggling  days  on  the  wild  marsh  coast 
of  Kent  and  the  equally  lonely  cliffs  of  Sussex.  The  village 
is  a  hot-bed  of  these  daring  "free  traders,"  even  the  parson 
and  his  daughter  are  secretly  in  sympathy  with  them,  and 
young)  Lieutenant  Tregenna,  who  is  in  command  of  the 
revenue  cutter  sent  to  overawe  the  natives,  has  anything  but 
a  comfortable  task  to  perform.  His  difficulties  only  increase 
when  he  falls  in  love  with  Joan  and  discovers  her  leanings 
towards  the  illegalities  of  the  village,  and  when,  at  the  same 
time,  the  audacious  leader  of  the  smugglers,  Ann  Price,  who 
carries  on  her  trade  disguised  as  a  man,  falls  in  love  with 
him  herself,  the  complications  are  almost  bewildering. 
The  story  moves  through  countless  adventures,  sanguinary 
fights,  and  lovers'  quarrels  to  the  conventionally  happy 
ending  and  the  partial  return  of  the  fishermen  to  honest 
ways.  — Book  News, 

Miss  Florence  Warden  in  "Joan,  the  Curate"  tells  an  or- 
thodox tale  of  smugglers  in  the  last  century  with  plenty  of 
exciting  adventures  and  no  deviations  from  the  accepted 
traditions  of  a  familiar  pattern  in  fiction. — N.  y.  Sun. 

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The  Real  Lady  Hilda 


By   B.  M.  CROKER 

^66  pages,  size  7%  #5,  Cloth,  j  stampings, 


"The  Real  Lady  Hilda,"  by  B.  M.  Croker,  is  a  very  pleas 
ing  novel,  depending  for  its  interest  not  upon  sensational  in- 
cident, but  upon  a  clever  portrayal  of  disagreeable  traits  of 
character  in  high  society.  The  story  is  told  by  a  young  lady 
who  finds  herself  with  her  stepmother  in  obscure  lodgings  in 
an  obscure  country  town.  The  head  of  the  family  had  been 
physician  to  a  Rajah  in  India,  had  lived  in  princely  style  and 
had  entertained  in  princely  fashion .  He  had  died  and  left  to 
his  widow  and  child  nothing  but  a  small  pension,  and  they 
soon  found  themselves  in  straightened  circumstances.  Be- 
sides the  character  drawing,  the  entertaining  feature  of  the 
story  lies  in  the  shabby  treatment  which  the  two  impecun- 
ious women  receive  from  the  people  whom  they  have  so 
royally  entertained  in  India,  and  the  inability  of  the  widow, 
with  her  Indian  experience,  to  understand  it.  Entertaining 
too  is  the  fawning  toad)  sm  of  the  middle  Jass  women,  who 
disdainfully  tip  their  noses  and  wag  their  .ongues  when  they 
find  that  the  poor  women  are  neglected  V>y  the  great  lady  in 
the  neighborhood, 

—  The  Bookseller,  Newsdealer  and  Stationer. 

Mrs.  Crcker  belongs  to  the  group  of  English  country  life 
novelists.  £iie  is  not  one  of  its  chief  members,  but  she  suc- 
ceeds ofteii  in  being  amusing  in  a  quiet,  simple  way.  Her 
gentlefolk  lack  the  stamp  of  caste,  but  the  plots  in  which 
they  are  placed  are  generally  rather  ingenious.  Of  course, 
in  a  field  so  assiduously  worked,  one  cannot  look  for  origin- 
ality. The  present  book  is  just  what  the  author  modestly 
calls  it — a  "sketch,"  with  the  usual  poor  girl  of  good  family 
and  the  equally  familiar  happy  ending.— Mail  and  Express*. 


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Man's  Undoing 

By  Mrs.  H.  LOVETT  CAMERON 

333  Pages,  size  7%  x 5,  Cloth,  j  stampings,  $1.00. 

A.  retired  English  officer,  returned  to  his  widowed  mother'g 
^uiet  home  in  the  country,  finds  his  undoing  in  idleness, 
which  leads  him  into  a  flirtation  with  a  girl  socially  and  in- 
tellectually his  inferior,  but  who  is  clever  enough  to  force 
marriage  upon  him.  Then  complications  thicken,  as  the 
man  discovers  the  full  meaning  of  his  fatal  mistake. 

— The  Mail  and  Express. 

"A  Man's  Undoing"  is  an  exceptionally  good  novel  by 
Mrs.  H.  Lovett  Cameron.  It  is  not  written  to  tickle  the 
palate  of  the  sated  reader  who  is  looking  only  for  new  sensa- 
tions, nor  is  it  intended  to  amuse  for  a  short  hour,  it  preaches 
no  new  doctrine  ;  it  presents  no  novelties  of  character  or  in- 
cident. Its  theme  is  as  old  as  humanity — the  burden  of  story 
and  song  through  all  the  ages.  But  Mrs.  Cameron  shows  that 
it  has  lost  none  of  its  interest,  that  its  phases  may  be  pre- 
sented in  new  aspects,  that  the  conventionalities  of  modern 
civilization  have  not  made  it  less  a  force  in  the  affairs  of 
men,  nor  obliterated  any  of  its  eternal  truths.  Its  influence 
over  the  lives  of  men  and  women  varies  in  extent  and  re- 
sults, as  the  men  and  women  vary  in  character,  subject 
always  to  variations  of  condition  and  environment :  there- 
fore it  always  presents  new  studies.  All  the  world  loves 
a  lover,  and  no  one  knows  better  than  Mrs.  Cameron  how  to 
make  a  lover  most  interesting.  Especially  skillful  is  she  in 
her  delineations  of  women  who  love.  She  paints  other  women 
also  to  fill  out  her  pictures — the  narrow-minded  old  maids  and 
the  gossipy  matrons,  and  none  of  her  women  are  repellingly 
bad — but  her  women  who  love  have  all  the  nobility  and 
/strength  of  womanhood.  As  she  deals  with  noble  character, 
so  she  deals  with  the  serious  affairs  of  life,  of  strong  emo- 
tions, of  heart  histories,  with  all  their  heroism  and  pathos. 
"A  Man's  Undoing  "  is  admirably  constructed.  Its  lessons 
will  not  be  lost  upon  the  thoughtful,  and  it  will  be  read  with 
eager  interest  by  all  classes  of  novel  readers.. 

— Bookseller,  Newsdealer  and  Stationer- 


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Daunay '  s     Tower 

By    ADELINE    SERGEANT 

4°5  Pa£est  s'ze  7/^*!5>    Cloth,   Ink  and  Gold,   $1,2$ 

In  certain  passages  suggestive  of  "  East  Lynne,"  in 
others  recalling  "  Jane  Eyre,"  and  in  plot  remindful  of 
Wilkie  Collins'  ingenious  contrivances,  "  Daunay 's  Tower" 
appears  as  a  late  exponent  of  that  school  of  fiction  which, 
delighted  the  novel  readers  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago. — 
Chicago  Record. 

"  Daunay 's  Tower,"  by  Adeline  Sergeant,  is  a  novel  of 
exceptional  power  and  merit.  The  plot  is  skilfully  woven 
out  of  somewhat  unpromising  material,  and  the  air  of 
improbability  which  marks  the  opening  chapter  soon  van- 
ishes and  gives  place  to  the  natural  and  easily  possible. 
The  leading  characters  are  not  only  distinct  and  well  drawn, 
but  are  more  completely  drawn  than  is  often  the  case  in  the 
light  novel ;  the  literary  style  is  not  that  of  the  space  writer. 
The  subordinate  characters  are  all  natural — not  lay  figures. 
— Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

Though  based  on  a  rather  improbable  foundation,  Miss 
Adeline  Sergeant's  new  novel  shows  no  falling  off  in  regard 
to  vigor  and  imagination  and  deserves  to  be  welcomed  as  a 
more  than  ordinary  piece  of  fiction.  The  pathos  of  the 
situations  is  tenderly  drawn,  and  the  heroine  holds  the 
interest  and  sympathy  of  the  reader. — Albany  Times  Union. 

This  is  a  forceful  and  interesting  novel.  It  has  a  com- 
bination of  incident  and  movement  that  gives  it  an  attract- 
iveness that  more  than  compensates  for  infelicities  of 
expression  and  a  certain  clumsiness  in  the  handling  of  the 
plot. — Baltimore  Sun. 

Adeline  Sergeant  gives  to  us  a  good,  vigorous  romance 
in  "  Daunay 's  Tower" — just  the  sort  of  book  to  be  a  royal 
companion  for  a  summer  afternoon. — American. 

At  all  bookullers  or  will  tt  ttnty 
postpaid,   upon  receipt  of  price    by 

F.   M.   BUCKLES   a*    COMPANY 

New  Tork 


Vanity 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  *  COURT  MODISTt 
By  "RIT4" 

282  pages,  size  7%  x  5,  Ink  and  Gold,  $1.25 

A  court  modiste  makes  confession  in  this  bright  book 
by  one  who  conceals  herself  as  "Rita."  We  are  introduced 
to  the  modiste  at  once  and  find  her  on  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy when  an  Irishman  arrives  in  London  from  Paris. 
The  rich  American  wearing  diamonds  as  big  as  hickory  nuts 
with  her  man-hunting  daughter  are  given  the  benefit  of  a 
dressing  down.  There  is  a  comedy  side  to  the  story  that 
has  not  been  neglected. — Detroit  Journal, 

Another  of  the  new  society  novels  is  "Vanity,"  by 
"  Rita,"  which  is  a  bright  and  pleasing  volume.  The  story 
is  cleverly  told  by  a  court  modiste  who  had  abundant  oppor- 
tunities to  see  behind  the  curtains  of  English  aristocratic 
life.  She  draws  a  picture  of  immoralities,  jealousies,  false- 
ness and  bickering.  The  story  is  full  of  such  incidents  as 
scenes  at  the  London  restaurants,  where  ' '  emancipated 
women  "  sup  with  kindred  souls  while  their  husbands  are 
elsewhere  engaged,  and  doings  at  country  houses  where 
society  conventionalities  are  laid  aside,  and  there  is  the 
freedom  of  "  Liberty  Hall." — Buffalo  Express. 

"Vanity,"  by  "Rita,"  affords  a  glimpse  of  shoddy 
fashionable  life.  The  reader  gets  a  peep  behind  the  scenes 
of  fashionable  life  in  "Vanity."  The  rather  pathetic  court 
dresser,  through  whose  eyes  we  see  the  fashionable  world,  is 
forced  by  necessity  to  cater  to  "smart"  people.  They  so 
run  to  credit,  however,  that  the  dressmaker  would  have 
been  ruined  were  it  not  for  an  Irishman  of  taste  and  wealth 
who  goes  into  partnership  with  her.  Pathos  and  comedy, 
with  a  dash  of  tragedy,  are  judiciously  combined  into  a 
breezy  story. — Chicago  Times  Herald. 

"  Vanity,"  the  confessions  of  a  court  modiste,  by  "Rita," 
deals  daringly  with  the  fashionable  life  of  London.  The 
comedy  of  the  story  is  made  all  the  more  enjoyable  by 
occasional  episodes  of  real  pathos. — Albany  Argus. 

At  all  booksellers  or  -will  be  tentt 
postpaid,  upon  receipt  of  prict  by 

F.  M.  BUCKLES  &  COMPANT 

•    New  Tork 


UCSB  LIRRAPY 


A     000  655  657     5 


